A New Battle
by Solitaire
Summary: A sequel to X-Men: the Movie. The X-Men find a new enemy in the form of Mr. Sinister, and hence a new battle must be fought. However, besides the obvious one, several internal battles must also be fought.
1. Part One-- The Beginning

X-Men: Beginnings and Endings, Part 1  


Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. I've seen stories based on this concept before, so I'm not claiming that this is an original idea or anything. This is just my humble opinion of what should happen in a sequel.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: I know that a lot of things in here don't parallel the comic book world as well as they could, but hey, they don't in the movie, either. This is my first fic, I know it sucks, but it gets better. I promise.  
  


~*~  
  


Wolverine pulled up to the X-Mansion on his motorcycle, surprisingly glad to see it after his year long absence. He was tired; he hadn't slept for a long while. He hadn't eaten, either. He planned to check in with the professor, perhaps see how Jean was doing, get something to eat, and then sleep. For about a week.  
  
Professor Charles Xavier opened the door before he could knock. The telepath must have sensed his presence. "Logan! What a pleasant surprise!"  
  
"Good to see you again, Chuck," he replied gruffly, trying to hide the fact that it was good to see him again.  
  
"Tell me, was your journey successful?"  
  
"I found out a lot, if that's what you mean. Not a lot of it was anything I wanted to know." He paused as they passed a large, muscular… man, completely covered in blue fur. "Who or what the hell is _that_?" Logan asked.  
  
"That is Henry McCoy, also known as Beast. Henry, could you come here a second please?"  
  
"What is it, Professor? I have some specimens I'd like to look at in the lab." He glanced at the petri dish he was holding. "Fascinating." His accent was Midwestern, but he spoke with an eloquency that was not common to the area.  
  
"This is Logan. I believe you've heard of him?"  
  
"Ah, yes. The infamous Wolverine. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."  
  
Logan grunted in response.   
  
"Henry was one of the first members of the X-Men. He returned a few months ago, after a long leave, similar to the one you just came from. He works in the infirmary and laboratory."  
  
Logan looked the man up and down. The fur was quite unnerving, and when it was paired with fangs and an altogether animal-like appearance, he really did look like a beast. His hair, or rather, longer fur that happened to be at the top of his head, went back into points, similar to Wolverine's own hair.  
  
"Love the hairstyle," he remarked dryly.  
  
"Why, thank you. It appears to be altogether rather similar to your own."  
  
Is this guy for real? Logan thought derisively.   
  
"It was a pleasure conversing with you, Logan, but I'm afraid that I really must go," Beast excused himself.  
  
"What did you find on your trip, Logan? Did you go to the compound that I located?" Xavier asked, continuing their earlier discussion.  
  
"Yeah, I did. That was the place, all right." He grimaced, flashes of what happened to him there coming back. "It was called Weapon-X, I was called Weapon-X. The ultimate, human weapon. They experimented on other mutants, too."  
  
"Any names you recognized?"   
  
"Well, Sabertooth, for one."  
  
Xavier raised an eyebrow. "So you were once his ally."  
  
"I guess… I don't really remember anything about him." He thought for a minute, reviewing all the new memories the compound had brought. "We worked for the government together, I think. But I don't… I can't tell what memories go where, I don't know where any of them fit." He frowned, creasing his forehead in thought. His countenance changed abruptly into one of self-directed anger. He had been telling the professor too much. "I couldn't find out too much before I had to come back here."  
  
"Why did you have to come back here?"  
  
"Ran into this band o' mutants. Said they were going toward New York. Didn't seem like good guys, so I guessed I should come back here and warn you people."  
  
"Could you describe these people, Logan?"  
  
"Uh, there were about six? Seven? Maybe more, I don't really know. One guy- big guy- with harpoons, or something. A lady with green hair. And some person made out a' crystal or something. Some kid with freaky eyes, too."  
  
Charles nodded. "I'll have to check Cerebro. Please excuse me. It is wonderful having you back in the mansion. Your presence was missed by many, myself included." He rolled his wheelchair to the wing containing his mutant-finding computer.  
  
Logan headed toward the kitchen, his stomach rumbling fiercely.   
  
"Logan? Is that ya in the kitchen?" called a female voice with a soft Southern accent.  
  
"Marie?" He didn't know why he bothered to ask, her scent was unmistakable.  
  
She ran into the kitchen, a blur of brown and white hair. "Ya came back!" She hugged him tightly; he belatedly returned the embrace.  
  
"How are you, kid?" He pulled away to get a good look at her. She was obviously becoming a full grown woman. _She has to be nearly 18, if not already_, he realized. She was taller, walked with more confidence. She had also, Logan couldn't help but notice, filled out a bit since he'd last seen her.   
  
"Good, Ah guess. How're you? Did ya find what'cha were lookin' for?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged. "I guess I didn't really know what I wanted to find."  
  
Marie seemed to accept that answer. "Got somethin' for ya." She found the chain around her neck with her gloved fingers and pulled, revealing dog tags previously hidden under her shirt. "Ah believe these are yers."   
  
"Thank you." He took them from her, the metal still warm from her skin. "So how're classes?"  
  
"Pretty good. Ah graduate in spring. Ah get ta go on mah first mission soon."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"And a lot a' people got sick with the flu. Ah had it real bad. But Jean and Hank took care a' us."  
  
_Jean…_ "How is she?"  
  
"Jean? She's good. Ya didn't hear the news?"  
  
Logan ignored her. "I'm gonna go say hi to her, okay, kid?"  
  
Rogue smiled knowingly. "Alright, ya go and do that."  
  


~*~  


  
Charles Xavier entered Cerebro and put on the helmet, scanning the New York area for the band of mutants that Logan described. It sounded like Kodiak Noatak, Lorna Dane, the mutant known only as Prizm, and perhaps Remy LeBeau were involved somehow. All of them could be very dangerous under the wrong circumstances. And if the other mutants they'd fallen in with were equally powerful… well, Charles hoped that they weren't.   
  
He finally found the four mutants, along with five others and a very dark presence. He focused in on them, trying to find a location or any clue to the others' identity. They were in an underground laboratory. The exact surroundings were unfamiliar, but Xavier would recognize the experiments, the torture, the pain, anywhere.  
  
"Sinister," he whispered, leaving Cerebro for the meeting room and calling his team there.  
  
Storm, Cyclops, and Jean all immediately who he was talking about. Wolverine, however, wasn't following.  
  
"What is sinister?" he asked.  
  
"Sinister is a very powerful mutant who wants 'genetic perfection' of the mutant community," Professor X explained.  
  
"I thought once we took care of Magneto that'd be it," Wolverine grumbled.  
  
"I am sorry to disappoint you, Logan. But there are mutants working for less than honorable causes everywhere that we must face." He turned to the group of X-Men. "Sinister has had a team of operatives formed, the Marauders." A picture of each Marauder came up on a screen as Xavier talked about them. "Arclight, who has the ability to send shockwaves through any object or living being. Blockbuster, who has superhuman strength and is nearly invulnerable. Harpoon, who can transform objects into dangerous energy. Prizm, whose crystalline body can channel and amplify energy. Riptide, who can spin at an incredible rate and employs shuriken. Scalphunter, who can create all kinds of weapons. Vertigo, who can project a field of her namesake. And Polaris, whose powers are similar to Magneto's. The most dangerous of these are the leader, Sabertooth, who you have encountered before, and another of Sinister's men separate from the Marauders, Gambit, who can convert the potential energy of an object into kinetic energy."  
  
"Come again on that last one?" asked Logan.  
  
"He can charge an object with kinetic energy, which causes it to explode when it comes in contact with another object." Storm was staring sadly at the picture the professor had called up on the screen.  
  
"You know this creep or something?" Wolverine couldn't get past the teenager's eyes. Blood red irises, on coal-black. Looked like Lucifer himself. Definately the kid he'd run into back in Canada.  
  
"He was a good friend," Ororo defended him. "He saved my life."  
  
"He saved your- how?"  
  
"A couple years back, the Shadow King- that is another one of our enemies, Logan- captured and de-aged me. He gave me amnesia, so I could not remember who or what I was. I ended up in New Orleans, where I had to resort to robbery to survive…"  
  


~*~  


  



	2. Part Two-- The Past

X-Men: Beginnings and Endings, Part 2  


Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. This is Storm's recollection of meeting Gambit in New Orleans.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: I am not a French-speaker. I just play one on TV. :) I know that I'm gonna make mistakes, so when I do, just tell me (nicely). All French comes to you courtesy of Learn to Speak French 8.0 and my friends Elisabeth and Valérie.  
  


~*~  


  


~Storm's Flashback Sequence~  
~New Orleans, French Quarter, two years ago~  
  


It was night. A young girl, about nine or so, stared up at an empty house. Her long white hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her blue eyes were a surprising contrast to her latte-colored skin.  
  
She quickly opened a window and entered the house. She prowled around, quiet as a mouse. Suddenly, she realized that she was not alone in the dark room. She scrambled to a corner and cowered in the shadows.  
  
A tall figure stepped into the moonlight, revealing his form to the child.  
  
"Bonjour, p'tite." His voice was smooth, the French came easily.  
  
She drew back further.  
  
He approached her. She could see him clearer; he had long auburn hair spilling over dark sunglasses. A tan trench coat covered standard Thieves' Guild apparel. He was nearly twice her age.  
  
"Tu t'appelles comment?" the man asked kindly. {What is your name?}  
  
The innocent question nearly brought the girl to tears. "Je ne sais quoi je m'appelle," she whimpered, obviously struggling with the language. {I don't know what my name is.}  
  
The man was sympathetic. "Y'wan' Remy t'talk t'y'in English, p'tite?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, please, mister."  
  
He stood, and quick as lightning pocketed an object from the mantelpiece.   
  
"C'mon. Let's go." He held out a hand for the young girl.  
  
She stared at it as if it would bite.  
  
"P'tite, do y'have anywhere t'go?" he asked softly.  
  
She shook her head sadly.  
  
"C'mon. Remy'll take good care a' y'. Dere's food," he offered.  
  
She hesitantly went with the strange man, knowing that she had no other alternative. And something told her to trust him for some unknown reason.  
  
Remy kept his promise to take good care of the child. He kept her fed and a roof over her head. She learned through overheard conversations that he was a professional thief, one of the best. She had heard several men use the slur "mutie" when referring to him, but it was several weeks later before she learned first-hand of his mutation.  
  
He'd been teaching her French. Most of these lessons were of a repeat- after- Mr. Remy variety, conducted while walking to the store. She learned everything from nouns to adjectives to verb conjugations that way. That particular day, however, she was merely learning a children's song.  
  
"Frére Jacques," sang Remy.  
  
"Frére Jacques," repeated the girl.  
  
"Dormez-vous?"   
  
"Dormez-vous? Sonnez-" She broke off, realizing that Remy had stopped several paces behind her. "Mr. Remy?"  
  
"Merde," he whispered, staring into a dark alley. {Shit.}  
  
"Merde," she repeated cheerily, continuing the lesson.  
  
"Non, p'tite. Not dat word. Jus'- hush." He froze, ready for action at any second.   
  
"LeBeau!" thundered a voice, sounding as though it were from the depths of hell. "I believe you have something that my boss wants."  
  
A playing card instantly appeared at Remy's fingertips. The ace of spades. Card of death. It began to glow a light orange-red. "Stay away from de chile!" he yelled, throwing the card at one of the alley's shadows with deadly accuracy. A long trail of the eerie reddish fire followed the ace from his hand to the impact in the alley. The girl clearly heard the resulting explosion and cry of pain. It was something that would ring in her mind for years to come.  
  
Remy pulled something from his trench coat pocket and extended it with one smooth turn. A bo staff.  
  
"You ready t'play wit' Gambit?" he challenged, brandishing the staff with both hands.  
  
The girl still couldn't see into the alley clearly, all she could make out was a figure getting cautiously to his feet. Without warning, the figure began shooting bright bolts of… _something_… at her protector. Remy dodged them effortlessly at first, but one beam finally caught him in the shoulder. He went down.  
  
The child gave a startled cry and began to run to his side.  
  
"Run, p'tite," he managed. "I take care of him."  
  
The child stayed.  
  
"Go!" Remy commanded.  
  
She unwillingly ran away, but stopped and turned once she'd crossed the street.   
  
Remy had charged the remainder of the deck, which was now flying straight into the assailant's stomach.  
  
He was not fazed. He had spotted the girl and was coming for her. He would not go until he had her.  
  
"Fine," Remy spat, false bravado making up for the fact that he was about to collapse. "Now y'make Gambit angry. Dat ain' good f'you, homme."  
  
The girl could tell he was concentrating very hard. Eventually she could make out a shoe glowing with red-orange light in the shadows. She turned away before it detonated. Various objects around the assailant charged and exploded. Eventually- and the child could see that it took a lot out of Remy- the attacker's very form began to glow, lightly at first, then very bright.  
  
The sound nearly made her sick.   
Remy collapse on the pavement; the one arm that had been propping him up had given out. The girl rushed to his side.  
  
"Mr. Remy?" She shook him lightly. "Mr. Remy!"  
  
"Quoi, p'tite?"  
  
"You're alive!" she cried happily.  
  
"Jus' ba'ley." He stretched and sat up, keeping his eyes closed the whole time. "Get Remy his sunglasses, will y', p'tite?"  
  
She scrambled to pick up the dark glasses a couple steps away, where they'd fallen off of his face.  
  
"Ici." {Here.}  
  
"Merci boucoup." He held out his hand for them.  
  
"Open your eyes first." She had yet to see his eyes and was curious.  
  
"Non, p'tite, de sun hurts dem."  
  
"_Please_?" she begged.  
  
He opened them slowly, letting them adjust to the light. He stared at her, squinting slightly.  
  
She gasped. His eyes- they weren't colored by any hue from the normal eye-color spectrum. They were red and black. Demon's eyes.  
  
Remy quickly grabbed the sunglasses and jammed them on. "Sorry if I scared y', p'tite." He stood up slowly.  
  
"Didn't scare me." They continued on their way to the store. She finally asked the question that was burning a hole in her tongue: "Are you a mutant?"   
  
"Oui."  
  
"Am _I_?"  
  
Remy paused. "I t'ink so." He took out more cards and began shuffling them idly as he walked. "Dere is a place f'mutan' chillun like y'. I t'ink I'll take y'dere. Y'be safe dere."  
  
"An' y'come too?" she asked hopefully. Remy noticed that her accent was beginning to fade.  
  
"Non, p'tite."  
  
"But Rem-_eeee_," she whined. "I wan' t'stay with you."  
  
"I _know_ dat, p'tite. I wan' y't'stay wit' me, too. I feel like y'm'own soeur or somet'in'. But dat, jus' den, was a close call. I won' always be able t'pr'tect y'. An' I wan' y't'be safe."  
  
"When do I got t'go?" she asked quietly.  
  
Remy sighed. "I'll take y'tomorrow."  
  
The next day, the girl packed all of the things she'd acquired during her short stay with Remy. She climbed into the passenger seat of his car morosely.  
  
"It not gon' t'be _dat _bad, p'tite," Remy told her.  
  
She said nothing.  
  
"Once we get close 'nough t'find de number in de phone book, I call dem and talk t'dem. If dey ain' nice, y'don' go. How dat sound?"   
  
She shrugged.  
  
"Mebbe y'can talk t'dem too, neh?"   
  
She was still silent for awhile. "Don' wan' t'talk t'you none," she finally told him.  
  
They rode the next hour in silence.  
  
"Why don' you like me, Mr. Remy?" the girl asked quietly.  
  
"I like y'fine, p'tite. I tol' y'before, I feel like y'm'own sister. An' I meant it. I wouldn' make y'go if I didn' care for y'. I don' wan' t'see y'hurt, p'tite. Dat all."  
  
"Y'mean it?"  
  
"I do, an' y'know it, p'tite." He gave her a quick sideways glance and a smile. "Bon, tu es ma soeur?"   
  
She returned the smile. "Oui."  
  
"So y'gon' t'be more talk'tive wit' Remy now?"  
  
Her smile brightened into a real one. "Oui."  
  
"So now y'gon' t'tell Remy 'bout dat weat'er t'ing y'did in y'sleep las' night, hien?"  
  
"Wha' weather thing?"  
  
"You was sleep walkin' 'round sayin' stuff 'bout how you controlled de winds an' rains, an' y'eyes wen' all white an' den, nex' t'ing I know, de winds an' de rains are comin' in poor Remy's window."  
  
"Je suis desole," she apologized, hoping to score brownie points for using French. {I am sorry.}  
  
"Pas de probleme, p'tite," he assured her. {No problem.} "But, I was t'inkin', mebbe dat's y'mutan' powers. De weat'er."  
  
"Mebbe," she agreed, staring out the window at the wind as it tousled tree limbs. "I do feel- I dunno, _connected_ wit'- _with_," she corrected herself, "the weather."  
  
Remy laughed. "Good t'ing y'leavin' Nawlins, else y'English'd get as bad as Remy's!"  
  
"I wouldn' care," she insisted.  
  
"Dat's nice a' y't'say, p'tite. And I am able to speak English well when I wish to," he added in a mock-upper class voice.  
  
The girl giggled.  
  
"Wha', y't'ink dat's funny? Y't'ink Remy makin' a fool a'himself is funny?"  
  
She nodded, grinning.  
  
"Y'must a'been trés amused dese pas' couple a'weeks, den, neh?"  
  
The girl just smiled. Remy took a hand from the steering wheel and put it around her small shoulders in a brotherly gesture. She leaned back and closed her eyes. "Je suis fatigue. Wake me up when we get t'eat?" {I'm tired.}  
  
"D'accord." {Okay.}  
  
That night, they stayed in a Tenesee motel. Remy gave the girl the single bed, and slept on the floor. It was more from paranoia and wanting to be ready for battle than chivalry, though.  
  
In the morning it was pouring down rain. Visibility was practically zero.  
  
"Y't'ink y'could make dat stop, p'tite?" Remy asked.  
  
The girl concentrated hard, staring out the window. Her eyeballs clouded over to pure white, and her snowy hair began to dance with static electricity.  
  
"Woah, y'don' need t'over'xert y'self, now, hien? Mebbe y'should jus' go back t'sleep or somet'in', neh?"  
  
But the girl didn't hear him. She opened her mouth and a woman's voice came out, powerful, commanding respect. "Rains! Cease your pouring! Clouds! Be gone from the skies! I demand safe travel for the one I call brother and myself!"   
  
Within minutes, the rain had stopped. The child turned around to beam at the Cajun.  
  
"Wow, p'tite. Remy didn' know y'had it in y'. I'm very impressed." _An' a bit weirded out, too._  
  
The weather was beautiful all morning. When they stopped for lunch, they got a hold of the number for the mutant school Remy had mentioned. He called them from a payphone after they ate.  
  
The phone was answered on the third ring. "Hello, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, this is Dr. Jean Grey, how may I help you?"  
  
"Allô? Can I speak t' Professeur Xavier?"  
  
A pause. "Who is this, please?"  
  
"Dis Remy LeBeau. He don' know me."  
  
"Just a second."  
  
"T'anks, chére."  
  
He could hear muffled converation on the other end. He made out a small snippet: "…can't read him… some kind of shielding…"  
  
Remy smiled to himself. _Telepat's. Dey t'ink dey know everyt'in'._  
  
"Hello, how can I help you?" asked a male voice.  
  
"Allô, dis le professeur?"   
  
"Yes, this is Professor Xavier."  
  
"I hear y'have a mutan' school, neh?"  
  
No response.  
  
"I _be_ a mutan', Professeur."  
  
"Yes, we train mutants here," Xavier admitted.  
  
"Bon. I got a lil' mutan'-chile here wit' me, she don' know who she is or where she from, an' dere some bad guy chasin' her, an' I kept her safe for de pas' couple a' weeks, but I don' know how much longer I can."  
  
"She is welcome here. I assure you, we will keep her safe. What are her powers?"  
  
"She can do dis weat'er t'ing."  
  
"She controls the weather?" Xavier sounded shocked.  
  
"Oui, she did it dis mornin'."  
  
"Could you please tell me what she looks like?"  
  
"She 'bout nine, ten, 'bout five feet high, white hair, dark skin, blue eyes-"  
  
"Thank you. I believe I know who it is. Could you see if she responds to the name 'Ororo'?"  
  
"Ororo?" Remy asked. The girl turned her head at the sound of her name. "Oui, she did."  
  
"When can we expect you to arrive?"  
  
"Few heures. We'll be dere by supper."  
  
"Mr. LeBeau, you are welcome to stay with us as well, if you'd like," Xavier offered him.  
  
"Non, Remy like it alright in Nawlins. M'powers ain' givin' me no trouble no more."  
  
"Well, if that ever changes, you are always welcome here."  
  
"Merci for dat, Professeur. Remy keep dat in mind. We be dere soon."  
  
"Goodbye, and thank you."  
  
"Au revior." He hung up the phone and looked down at the child. "Looks like y'finally got a name, p'tite."  
  
Ororo smiled.  
  
"C'mon, 'Ro. Let's go. I said we'd be dere by dîner."  
  
Ororo followed Remy to the car and got in. In a couple hours, the mansion came into view.  
  
Remy parked down the street and walked Ororo to the gate. She had tears in her bright blue eyes, but refused to let them spill. Behind his sunglasses, Remy's red eyes were becoming moist as well.   
  
"You'll always be mon frére?" she asked.  
  
"If you'll always be ma soeur," Remy responded.  
  
She nodded, not trusting her voice.  
  
Remy straightened, suddenly businesslike. "Well, if y'ever in any trouble, jus' give ol' Remy a call. I take care of it for y'."  
  
On an impulse, Ororo hugged him tightly.  
  
"I make sure not'in' bad ever happen t'y', p'tite," he spoke into her hair.  
  
"I'm gon' miss y', Mr. Remy."  
  
"I'm gon' miss y'too, p'tite." He drew back and composed himself. "I see y'sometime soon, neh?"  
  
"Sometime soon," she repeated, and rang the buzzer at the gate.  
  
"Au revior, p'tite."  
  
Remy left and watched her from behind a bush. An older man, in a wheelchair, came to let her in. He looked around, presumably for Remy, then ushered Ororo in the mansion.  
  
"I won' f'get y', p'tite. Not ever," Remy whispered.  
  


~end flashback~  



	3. Part Three-- The First Fight

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 3  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. The X-Men take on the Marauders.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Fight scenes are not my forte. Also, I am not that familiar with the Marauders. Je suis désolé.  
  


~*~  


  
"…I thought he was so grown-up. But he was just a child himself. He is still not much more than a child." Storm shook her head. "I cannot fight Remy, Professor. I am sorry."  
  
"Ororo, Gambit is not the Remy LeBeau that you once knew. Sinister has controlled his mind. I am sure that you would not be in a position to fight him if Sinister hadn't," Xavier consoled her. "But we truly need your help on this mission."  
  
Storm hesitated, then finally agreed.  
  
"So Storm, Cyclops, Jean, Wolverine, and Beast will go. Cyclops will lead. Are any of the students ready for their first mission?"  
  
"Bobby, Kitty, and Marie are ready-" began Storm.  
  
"Rogue still isn't completely over that flu she had last week," Jean interrupted.  
  
Professor X tapped his communicator. "Iceman. Sprite. Prepare for your first mission. Meet Cyclops and the team by the Blackbird."  
  
"Alright! A mission!" came Bobby's reply.  
  
"I told you, Professor, I don't want my codename to be Sprite!"  
  
Charles sighed. "Then what _do_ you want your codename to be, Kitty?"  
  
There was a pause. "Shadowcat."  
  
The professor smiled, as did several of the others present in the meeting room. "Very well. Shadowcat, report to the Blackbird."  
  
"Thank you, Professor. I'll be right there."  
  
The seven X-Men were soon on their way to a lab warehouse, which Sinister's men were planning to attack.  
  
The warehouse had good security, but the X-Men had ways of getting past such security. Beast lifted Cyclops, Wolverine, Jean, and Iceman over a barbed wire fence. Storm flew over, covering them with a thick fog. Shadowcat phased through. Iceman froze a security camera, rendering it useless until it thawed.  
  
They finally made it into the building. "There's no one here!" Cyclops exclaimed after surveying the empty warehouse.  
  
A tall, lanky, blood-eyed man who could only be Gambit stepped out from the shadows. "I wouldn' say _dat_, mon ami." He twirled a playing card- the seven of diamonds- in his long fingers. He abruptly stopped, and snapped.  
  
Ten Marauders revealed themselves from behind various boxes.  
  
Storm stepped ahead of her fellow X-Men. "Why are you doing this, Remy?" she demanded. "Tu es mon frére, est ce que tu te rapples?" {You are my brother, don't you remember?}  
  
The Cajun's eyes snapped wide open at the sight of her. "P'tite! Y'growed up!"  
  
"My name…" she told him, floating regally on a breeze, "is _Storm_." She held up a hand, commanding a bolt of lightning to strike right behind him.  
  
"Merde!" he yelped. "Dat come a lil' close, neh?"  
  
Cyclops took advantage of the distraction to shoot an optic beam at Gambit, who easily dodged it.  
  
"Gambit suggest you don' do dat, mon brave." He quickly charged the card he was holding and flung it at Cyclops, who ducked. It missed by half an inch, and exploded forcefully against the cement wall.  
  
From that point it was all-out war.  
  
Jean was trying to manipulate a couple of Marauders to attack each other. She successfully got Vertigo to unleash a field on Scalphunter, bringing him down for the count. However, she didn't notice Scrambler sneaking up behind her until it was too late. He nullified her powers, leaving her limp on the ground.  
  
"Jean!" cried Cyclops, running to her from his battle with Prizm. Sabertooth attacked and would've gutted him if not for Wolverine charging Sabertooth, claws bared. Logan got three of Gambit's cards in the arm for his troubles, but ignored them other than letting out an angry growl.  
  
Cyclops blasted Scrambler with an optic blast, then whirled around to shoot two more at Sabertooth and Gambit. Scrambler fell to the ground, Sabertooth growled, and Gambit avoided the blast easily.  
  
Harpoon hurled one of his namesake weapons at Bobby, who turned the energy-weapon, then its thrower, to ice. He then fell, clutching his stomach, due to Vertigo's attack. Storm shot a lightning bolt at her, then at Blockbuster, felling them both.  
  
Polaris was utilizing the metal supports of the building well. She ripped out one and sent it toward Shadowcat, who phased through it. Shadowcat attacked the mistress of magnetism, and got a couple good punches in before she was knocked out. Beast took over where Kitty left off, and this time Polaris was the one unconscious.  
  
Storm found herself engaged in one-on-one combat with Gambit. _He did this on purpose_, she realized.  
  
"Y'French has improved," he told her, referring to her earlier well-accented sentence as he dodged a bolt and swung his staff.  
  
"So has your English… marginally," Storm shot back, winds lifting her above his weapon.  
  
Gambit was silent for a couple seconds, unusual when he was in a fight or any other time. "Gambit t'ink he like y'better when y'were a jeune fille, Stormy."  
  
"Do_ not _call me 'Stormy'!" She aimed a bolt at his chest, and he fell back to avoid it.  
  
With a glance around the room, he noticed all of his compatriots were felled save one. Sabertooth was still duking it out with Wolverine. Gambit whistled sharply.  
  
"C'mon, y'dumb animal, let's go back t'de base." He turned to the X-Men. "Dis fight ain' over yet," he warned.  
  
Sabertooth snarled and followed the lean Cajun, carrying Prizm and Polaris. Gambit was half-dragging Arclight. The rest could move themselves, albeit painfully.  
  
"I have the feeling that was only Round One," Cyclops remarked after they'd left.  
  
Storm nodded, staring at the ground.  
  
"What is wrong, my weather-controlling friend?" asked Beast.  
  
"He _acts_ like the same Remy I knew, but his eyes… they have changed. I do not like what I see in them," she said quietly.  
  
"_I _don't like his eyes either. They're unnatural," growled Logan, angered by the fact that his arm still hadn't healed completely.  
  
Bobby had been recuperating the past couple minutes. "Oh, and nine-inch claws are?" he interjected.  
  
"Shaddup, kid."  
  


~*~  


  
Rogue stared out at the mansion grounds and sighed. It was beginning to feel like home now, but something was missing.  
  
She _should _have been happy with her life. She had friends, she had family, she had a… romantic interest…  
  
Bobby. She didn't feel the way she used to about him. Her heart didn't pound when her was near. He didn't make her tongue-tied or her palms sweat. She just didn't feel drawn to him like she did mere months, hell, even weeks ago. And sometimes she found him downright obnoxious. Yet everyone assumed they were a quote- unquote "thing." And everyone told her they were perfect for each other.  
  
Everyone also thought that she had a crush on Logan. True, no one had admitted to thinking this, but it was obvious, the way they exchanged looks every time she sat next to him, or talked to him, or about him. She _did_ like Logan, and respected him, and looked up to him as a sort of father figure. But he was too old, and she didn't feel that way about him, either. She had missed him terribly when he had left, but she was more sure now than ever that she just didn't think of him like that. Besides, he was still fawning over Jean Grey. Jean deserved so much better than Cyclops. Why couldn't she open her eyes and see what she _could_ have?  
  
'Everyone' sucked. They could go screw themselves. Rogue sighed. She hadn't meant that. She just got so frustrated sometimes. She'd thought that maybe, just maybe, the Institute could be someplace she'd finally fit in at. But that wasn't the case at all. She still felt the familiar distance from everyone else. Perhaps she wasn't meant to have many friends. But that thought didn't do much to comfort her.  
  
"Hey Rogue!" It was Bobby. "We're back!"  
  
She smiled thinly. "How was it?"  
  
"It was _so _cool! I took out this one big guy, but this lady made me sick. And Kitty nearly got this other lady but she punched Kitty out first. Oh it was so _cool_! I wish you could've been there."  
  
"Ah would've like ta see it."  
  
Wolverine interrupted, shaking his head. "It was pretty nasty, darlin'."  
  
That was when Rogue noticed his arm. She gasped. It looked like it had been slashed twice and the wound burnt. There was a thin pale line where the same thing must have happened but already healed. _Why hadn't_ all _of it healed_? she wondered. "What _happened_?"  
  
Logan glanced at his arm. "Damn Gambit kid. Does some thing to cards, makes 'em explode when they hit. Hurts like hell and takes _forever _to heal. That kid's the devil, I swear. You didn't see his _eyes_, Marie. Blood-red on pitch black. And completely empty." He looked straight into her eyes. "Promise me you'll never get involved with _anyone _like that _ever_, darlin'."  
  
"Sure," she agreed, wondering why Wolverine was suddenly so protective.  
  
"Will you come to the infirmary for a couple minutes, Logan?" asked Henry. He stared at the injury, which was still in the process of healing. "Fascinating."  
  
Wolverine growled but followed the blue-furred man.  
  
"C'mon, Marie. Let's get something to eat; I'm starving."  
  
Rogue nodded passively and followed Bobby to the kitchen.  
  



	4. Part Four-- Romantic Encounters

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 4  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. Rogue finally meets Gambit.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: The character of 'Mack' is mine. You can use him if you want to, though. I don't really care. Although I don't know why you _would _want to use him. He doesn't do much.  
  


~*~  


  
The next day Rogue showed up for a Danger Room session, but was told that she still was not ready for action, whether it was against real or holographic enemies.  
  
So she was going out. Technically, she wasn't supposed to do that, either, but if no one knew about it, they couldn't stop her.  
  
She walked into town, and found herself at Mack's Diner. She'd been there twice before, but never by herself. Mack was a known mutant, capable of mild telekinesis. He was a big guy, with purple eyes that blazed brightly when he used his powers. The customers were not primarily mutant, but were usually mutant-friendly. Occasionally the diner would be attacked by anti-mutant groups, but there were several people willing to help with the cost of such damage, Charles Xavier included. The idea of a mutant owning their own business was embraced in the mutant community.  
  
She sat down at the counter. "What'll you have, hon?" asked Mack kindly.  
  
"Tuna fish sandwich and a Coke, please."  
  
Her food came and she ate it quietly.  
  
Someone else cam in and sat at the bar, a couple seats down. She didn't look up, instead staring at her sandwich, seemingly fascinated by tuna salad and wonder bread.  
  
"Bonjour, mon ami." The man's voice was as smooth as dark velvet.  
  
"Hey, Rem'. What'll you have?"  
  
"Bourbon, s'il vous plaît."  
  
"Remy, every time you come in here you ask for a bourbon, and every time I tell you we don't serve drinks to minors."  
  
"Je sais, je sais. Coke, den." A minute later, after the sound of a drink being placed down: "Merci."  
  
Rogue finally gathered the courage to look at him, and her heart skipped a beat. He was gorgeous. His long russet hair was tied back in a ponytail; several strands had escaped and were hanging in his face. His eyes were obscured by dark glasses. His features were finely chiseled, almost delicate.  
  
He noticed she was staring. She looked away quickly, but not fast enough. He was walking over to the seat next to her, soda in hand, grinning easily.  
  
"Bonjour, chére."  
  
"Hello," she greeted quietly, not able to look at him. _Marie, do not get involved with a human,_ she told herself._ Humans bad! Humans bad! He'll hate ya when he finds out what ya are. And it's not like ya could evah _touch_ him or anythin'.  
_  
"Aw, Cajun, leave the poor girl 'lone," Mack reprimanded.  
  
"Shhh!" He waved him off with one elegant hand. "Remy talkin' t'de femme belle." He turned back to Rogue. "What y'name, chére?"  
  
"Ah'm Marie," she answered after a slight hesitation, still blushing from the compliment.  
  
"Marie. Dat's a pretty name." It wasn't until he said it, the French 'r' catching in the back of his throat.  
  
Marie turned a deeper shade of red. "And ya are…?"  
  
"Remy LeBeau." He took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. _Damn powers_, she thought. "It's a pleasure t'meet y'."  
  
"Nice ta meet ya too," she managed.  
  
He paused a moment, considering. "Mississippi?"  
  
She was confused a moment, then realized he was referring to her accent. "What? Oh, yeah, Ah'm from Mississippi. Yer from Nawlins."  
  
He smiled. "Oui."  
  
His easy-going manner was making her bolder. "So what're ya doin' up heah, sugah?"  
  
"Work," he said simply. "What 'bout y'?"  
  
"Same." She didn't ask what he did; she wasn't curious enough to risk being asked the same.  
  
He pointed to her now-empty glass of soda. "Y'wan' 'not'er one, chére, or are y'leavin'?"  
  
"Sure, Ah'll have- but Ah can- pay for-"  
  
"'Not'er Coke for de femme," Remy interrupted her.  
  
"No, that's okay- ya don't have ta-"  
  
"Shh," he hushed. "Remy know he don' have t'. But mebbe Remy wan' t'."  
  
"Okay," she agreed quietly.  
  
"So," he continued the conversation casually, "do you have un petit ami, chére?"  
  
"A what?"  
  
"A… boyfriend."  
  
"Oh." _Bobby… _ "No, Ah don't."  
  
He grinned. "Bien."  
  
She looked up at him, trying to see through his sunglasses. _Good? Good is… good. _  
  
Remy put a hand on hers, and looked at her face to see if she had any objections. Seeing none, he gently stroked the back of her suede burgundy glove with his thumb.  
  
_This guy's not forward, no, not at all_, Rogue thought. Not that she was complaining.  
  
"Why d'y'wear gloves, chére?"  
  
"Uh…" Marie's mind raced over possible reasons (other than the truth, of course). "Ah got a skin disease." _ Brilliant idea, Marie. Just brilliant. Now he'll think Ah'm disgustin'.  
_  
"Dat's too bad, chére."  
  
_Yeah, it is._  
  
"So, would y'-"  
  
A lady- a mutant- with green hair burst into the diner, cutting him off. "LeBeau! Let's get a move on, _neh_?" Mocking him.  
  
Remy granted her a half-twisted smirk. "Une minute." He turned back to Marie. "I see y'again, non?"  
  
"Sure," replied Marie, assuming she'd see him around.  
  
He didn't move. "When?"  
  
The full connotations of this struck Rogue all at once. "Ya mean like a _date_?" she blurted out.  
  
"Oui, dat _was _the implication." He wasn't laughing at her, merely waiting for a response as Green-hair became more impatient.  
  
"Uh, uh…" Rogue managed to collect her wits. "Friday?"  
  
Remy smiled, but she couldn't tell if it was real, if it had reached his eyes. _Damn glasses. _ "At seven? I pick y'up?"  
  
"No!" she exclaimed, a little loudly. If he knew where she lived, he'd know she was a mutant. An X-Man. "Ah mean, seven's fine. But, uh, Ah, uh, Ah'm gonna be at the, uh, the library, so could ya pick me up there?"  
  
"De library?" He raised an eyebrow.  
  
Rogue merely shrugged.  
  
"D'accord. De library, at seven. Bon, il faut que je parte."  
  
"Au revior," she called after him, knowing that her accent was bad and praying he wouldn't care.  
  
He didn't. He turned back to her and grinned. "A plus, chére." Seemingly impulsively, he brought his hand to his lips, then flung it out in a large gesture.  
  
Marie blushed uncontrollably.  
  
"He never paid, the bastard."  
  
She snapped her head up to look at Mack.  
  
"Check your purse, hon," he instructed.  
  
"_What_?"  
  
"Guy's a thief. Check your purse."  
  
Rogue did so, unbelieving. Yet when she opened the small black bag, a crisp white note stared up at her. The handwriting was precise, yet undeniably masculine.  
  
_You'd better keep a closer eye on your money, ma chérie. -Remy_  
  
She merely gaped. When had Remy even _touched _her purse? She was impressed, despite herself. She finally thought to check her wallet. Her money was all there- $35.46- plus the exact price of their combined bill. He was good, _damn _good.  
  
"He left a note, and money." She gave Mack the extra money.   
  
He shook his head, lifting the money to the cash register telekinetically. "Smooth talking _bastard_."  
  
She ignored his comment. "Hey, Mack, what does 'chére' mean?"  
  
"It means 'dear,' or something like that." He glanced up from the register to look Rogue in the eye. "You stay away from him, okay, hon? Don't want you getting hurt on account of my diner."  
  
But Marie paid him no heed, leaving the diner walking on air. _Ah have a date! Me! A date! Ah have-_  
  
Once she neared the mansion what she'd agreed to began to sink in. _-a date. With a human. A human that Ah don't even know. Maybe this wasn't the brightest idea in the world._  
  
"Hey, Marie. Where'd you go?" asked Bobby as soon as she got on campus grounds, immediately getting on her nerves.  
  
"Out," she replied in passing.  
  
"Hey, we're still on for that movie Friday night, right?"  
  
Marie froze. "Uh… sure," she answered cautiously. "Why wouldn't we be?" Rogue didn't wait for a reply before sprinting inside.  
  
She needed to talk to someone. Normally she went to Logan when she had a problem that just couldn't be kept to herself. But somehow, she couldn't this time. _Jean_, she immediately thought. Logan would tell her to talk to Jean.  
  
Marie knocked hesitantly on Jean and Scott's door, praying that Cyclops would not answer. He didn't.  
  
"Marie, honey, come in. What do you need?"  
  
"Uh, Ah need ta talk, act'chally." She swallowed hard, twisting at a belt loop nervously.  
  
Jean frowned. "Sure, what's wrong? You were very happy just a few minutes ago; I could sense it very easily." She paused, brushing the girl's mind ever so slightly, making sure to preserve Rogue's privacy. "You met a boy."  
  
Marie nodded. "He asked me on a date and I said yes."  
  
Jean raised her eyebrows. "You only just met him, and you agreed to go out with him? Marie, you don't know him at all-"  
  
She had already thought of all that. "What's he gonna do- rape me?"  
  
Jean smiled at the thought of what would happen to a potential rapist. "Well, maybe not, but he could still hurt you. Especially if he's a mutant, too."  
  
Rogue looked down at the floor. "Uh, I don't exactly think he _is _a mutant."  
  
"Does he know _you're _a mutant?"  
  
She mumbled a reply.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Marie, Marie, Marie. He could belong to some anti-mutant group, or-"  
  
"Well, Ah met him at Mack's Diner."  
  
"When were you at- never mind, I don't want to know."  
  
"There's another problem," the teen hedged. "Ah kinda already agreed ta go ta a movie with Bobby at the same time."  
  
Jean closed her eyes. "_Rogue_! Of course you have to make this all as _complicated _as possible."  
  
"Could ya maybe tell Bobby that Ah got sick again?"  
  
"I will not like for you, Marie. Whatever you decide to say, you'll have to tell him yourself." She paused for a moment, taking pity on Rogue's dilemma. "However, I'll back up anything you say to him," she added, smiling kindly.  
  
"Oh, thank ya thank ya thank ya so much, Jean!" She gave the older woman a hug, careful not to touch her skin, then skipped happily out of the room.  
  
Jean watched her leave, shaking her head and smiling.  
  
"Hey, Jeannie."  
  
Her eyes immediately snapped to the speaker, her pulse coming just slightly faster. "Logan! You startled me!"  
  
"Sorry, darlin'." He looked to where Rogue had last been seen, turning the corridor corner with a good extra measure of bounce in her step. "Why's she so excited?"  
  
"She met a boy." Jean smiled, remembering when she'd felt the same way, when she'd first met Scott… _Scott_. What was she doing here with Logan? She loved Scott. But her attraction to the man they called Wolverine was… undeniable, to say the least. She shoved her thoughts aside. "Puppy love."  
  
"She's hardly a pup anymore, y'know. All of 'em are so grown-up now. Even Jubilee's getting older, becomin' a young woman," he said, naming one of the youngest students when he had last been at the mansion. "Can I come in?"  
  
Jean stepped aside, allowing Logan into her room. He sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs; Jean took the other.  
  
"I've missed a lot while I was gone, haven't I?" Logan asked after a prolonged, not quite uncomfortable silence.  
  
"Yeah, you have." She waited a moment, debating whether she should tell him or not. "Logan, Scott and I are engaged now." She couldn't look at his face, instead concentrating on a speck of dirt on the rug.  
  
"Very funny, Jeannie."  
  
She just shook her head.  
  
Logan leapt up from his seat. "I can't believe you're planning on marrying that dick!"  
  
Jean stood up as well. "Scott is _not _a dick! He's… dependable," she finished lamely.  
  
Logan snorted derisively. "_Dependable_?" He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him, staring into her eyes. "Is that what you want?"  
  
She weakened under his intense gaze. "I- I don't know."  
  
He released her abruptly and turned to leave. "Then I guess I was wrong about you."  
  
"Logan, wait!" she called after him.  
  
He did so. "What?"  
  
"I'm sorry," she apologized lamely.  
  
"You did what you wanted to do, didn't you? You have what you want. What are you sorry for?"  
  
It wasn't anything she could put into words, so she ignored the question. "Can't we just be friends?" she pleaded, walking over to where he stood.  
  
He was silent for a long time, eyes searching her face. "I think you know the answer to that as well as I do, darlin'," he answered quietly.  
  
She didn't say anything.  
  
"Well, I'm not one to stay where I'm not wanted." He turned away, toward the door.  
  
"Logan, stop being so childish. It's not like that and you know it."  
  
"No, I _don't _know it, Jeannie. What _is _it like?"  
  
"Logan-" she began, becoming frustrated.  
  
He cut her off with a kiss. Her arms immediately went around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss quickly grew deeper, and the rest of the world seemed to fall away as nothing mattered anymore but each other.  
  
Neither one noticed the door opening and closing. Nor did they hear the footsteps, or detect the third presence in the room. Until he spoke.  
  
"What the _hell _is going on here?" Scott demanded.  
  
  
  



	5. Part Five-- Lies

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 5  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. Cyclops vs. Wolverine!!!! ::dramatic chord::  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Inspiration for the first part of this chapter comes from a match on X-Men: Mutant Academy. I would like to thank the Playstation gods, as I was completely stuck.  
  


~*~  


  
"That's my _fiancée _you've got your hands all over, in case you hadn't noticed, Logan," Scott spat angrily, hand coming to the side of his visor.  
  
"Scott…" begged Jean, backing away from the two men. But she knew it was no use. She had no place in this fight, other than keeping them from killing each other. Tension had been building between them since the day they'd met. If they didn't fight over her, they'd fight over _something _sooner or later.  
  
::Snikt, snikt:: Wolverine's claws appeared with a flick of each wrist. "I've been waitin' to kick yer ass for a long time now, bub. Looks like I finally got the chance."  
  
"You're not _going _to get the chance," Cyclops shot back, firing a laser optic blast at the older man.   
  
Wolverine leapt out of the way, letting the blast hit the bedside table. A lamp crashed to the ground as its support was reduced to splinters.  
  
Wolverine lunged for Cyclops. He'd retracted his claws, more interested in a good ass-kicking than killing the man. Cyclops got in one good backwards kick-flip, connecting twice solidly with Logan's jaw. But the bruise disappeared as soon as it formed, thanks to his healing factor. The only thing it really succeeded in doing was making Wolverine angrier.  
  
It was soon evident that the lean, well-built Team Leader was no match for the short, stocky, yet incredibly powerful Canadian in a "fair fight": no claws, no blasts. Scott could've killed Logan where he stood, with only a light touch to his armored temple. Of course, Logan could just as easily have gutted the young man in front of him. But neither did.  
  
Wolverine punched Cyclops twice in the jaw, his admantium skeleton nearly breaking it. Scott drove his fist into Wolverine's unprotected stomach, swearing unintelligibly at him. Logan recovered quickly, grabbed a handful of Cyclops's hair, and rammed his face into the wall several times. He let go, and Scott's tall frame sunk to the floor heavily.  
  
Logan pushed a lock of sweaty, thick dark hair out of his forehead, staring at what he'd done. There was blood on his fingers- he sniffed it- Cyke's, not his. How did that get there?  
  
He looked over at Jean. Tears were running down her angelic face as she stared at her unconscious lover. Suddenly, Logan was sorry for what he'd done.   
  
"Jeannie, I-"  
  
She cut him off without a word, bright, misty eyes burning into his own. She slapped him across the face with every ounce of her might, the sound echoing around the room for an eternity. She stormed off without another glance at him or at Scott.  
  


~*~  


  
Rogue was having trouble sleeping.  
  
For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to Remy, the man she'd met in the diner two days ago. She was frustrated at herself for it, but she found herself wondering what color his eyes were beneath his glasses, or hearing his low, almost hypnotic voice and its throaty "she-yah," or seeing his face with its almost aristocratic, undeniably Acadian features.  
  
_Get a hold a' yerself, Marie,_ she told herself. _Gotta get up, Ah'll go crazy if Ah stay heah. What the hell's wrong with me, anyway? He's just a guy, and Ah only just met him._  
  
She plodded down to the kitchen and started to make a cup of tea, feeling around in the dark rather than turning on a light.  
  
"Who's there?" demanded a gravelly voice.  
  
"Logan! It's just me." Rogue followed the voice into the dining room. She flicked on a light to see the big man slumped over the table dejectedly, being patted on the arm in a gesture of comfort by a small girl, slightly younger than Rogue herself.  
  
Marie narrowed her eyes at the her, recognizing the dark-haired girl immediately. Jubilation Lee, also known as Jubilee, had the ability to create fireworks, which spewed from her hands. That was the cause of the large pink sunglasses perpetually on her forehead; they protected her bright blue eyes from her blinding 'pafs.'  
  
"Hi, Jubilee."  
  
She looked up boldly. "Hey, Rogue." She was also radiating another message: _Stay away from Logan, he's mine._  
  
Marie almost laughed out loud, but simply nodded, acknowledging her name.  
  
Jubilee went back to her previous job of comforting. "It'll be ok, Wolvie. Jean doesn't, like, hate you or anything, I'm totally sure."  
  
_Wolvie_? Rogue had a harder time holding back the laughter that time. "You alright, Logan?" she asked instead.  
  
Jubilee sent her a dirty look, the kind that only teenagers may give.  
  
"No."  
  
"Anythin' Ah can get ya?"  
  
"Beer."  
  
Rogue sighed but obliged.  
  
"You seen Cyke lately?" asked Wolverine.  
  
She'd stopped in the Med Lab after dinner. "Yeah, he's… lookin' bettah." It was a lie, and Logan could tell.  
  
"What's he _really _look like?"  
  
"Honestly… he looks like hell. What'd ya do ta him?"  
  
"Banged him into the door a couple times," he mumbled. "He attacked me first."  
  
"But as _Ah _understand, ya were kissin' Jean-"  
  
Jubilee's eyes widened in shock, then narrowed. "You were?"  
  
"Jubilation!"  
  
"Hush, kid."  
  
Jubilee pouted.   
  
"Ah wouldn't worry too much 'bout Cyclops, Logan," said Rogue as she finished her tea and stood. "He'll heal."  
  
"It ain't Cyke I'm worried about," Wolverine muttered. "It's Jean."  
  
But Rogue didn't hear.  
  
She was already halfway to her room, and once she reached her bed she promptly fell asleep under the thick covers.  
  
She dreamt of Logan bashing in Scott's face, until he healed and turned into Remy. She walked next to him, her bare hand in his.  
  
Then she woke up and was Rogue again.  
  


~*~  


  
Rogue checked herself in the mirror for the tenth time, was finally satisfied, and eagerly ran out of her room, down the steps, and-  
  
-right into none other than Robert Drake.  
  
"Marie! Hi! You ready to go see that movie?"  
  
"Uh, actually, sugah, Ah can't."  
  
His face fell. She felt sick to her stomach just looking at him. "Why not?"  
  
_Ah really don't wanna lie ta him… but Ah guess Ah gotta._ "Ah told ya befoh, sugah, don't ya remembah?"  
  
"What?" Bobby was thoroughly confused.  
  
"Ah told ya…" What had she told him? "Ah have a major paper due Monday, and now's the only time Ah can go ta the library."  
  
"Whose class?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"Dr. Grey's," she answered, praying that Jean would still back her up. "Ah told ya all this two days ago. Remembah?"  
  
Bobby's face scrunched up in an effort to recall. He absent-mindedly ran a hand through sandy-blond hair. "Yeah, I… I guess I do."  
  
She smiled at him, hating herself for doing this behind his back. It was like she was cheating on him or something. _Might as well take it one step further. _ "Can Ah borrow yer car, Bobby? Ah don't have a way ta get there."  
  
"Sure." He pulled the keys to his beat-up, ancient green Taurus out of his pocket. It was hardly a car, more like an experiment in unsafe transportation. But it would get her where she wanted to go.  
  
"Thanks, sugah." She ruffled his hair with a gloved hand.  
  
She arrived at the library at 6:45. She grabbed a thick book on mythology, opened it on a table in front of her, and daydreamed.  
  
Suddenly he was right next to her, speaking softly into her ear. "Hey, chére. Remy wasn' so sure y'd show."  
  
"Ah said Ah would, didn't Ah, sugah?"  
  
He grinned. "Dat y'did, chérie." He leaned forward to kiss her on both cheeks, as per the French tradition.  
  
Marie nearly fell off her chair in trying to avoid him. A confused look crossed his face. It had evidently been a long time since a woman had turned him down on any level.  
  
"Sorry," she apologized hastily, blushing as she smoothed out her skirt.  
  
"'S alright." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"  
  
She took it, giggling despite herself. "We shall."  
  
Remy led her to a white vintage Cadillac, in near-perfect condition. _Where on earth would he get such a nice car? _Marie wondered. Something clicked in her mind. _Unless he… _ "Ya didn't steal it, did ya?"  
  
"Chére! I'm hurt!" He opened the passenger door for her, then went around to get in himself. "So I take it y'got m'note."  
  
"Yeah," she said distractedly. She looked around the leather interior of the car. It smelled lightly of cigarette smoke. She spotted half a pack lying on the dashboard. _A smoker. Gross. Maybe Ah could convince him ta-_  
  
"Chére?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I said, d'y'got a pro'lem wit' me bein' a t'ief?"   
  
"If Ah had a big problem with it, Ah wouldn't be heah, now would Ah, sugah?"  
  
He smiled, and took a hand from the wheel to place it on her own.  
  
"_Did _ya steal it?'  
  
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "De guy was… corrupt. Deserved it."  
  
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Ah bet just about every thief says exactly that."  
  
"Non, I'm serious, chére. I'm a reg'lar Robin Hood, don' y'know. Steal from de rich. I jus' never get 'round t'de 'give t'de poor' part."  
  
She didn't reply, merely shook her head in astonishment. She decided to change the subject. "So where're we goin'?"   
  
"T'ought mebbe we take a nice lil' walk in de park, den get a bite t'eat. Sound good?"  
  
"Sounds great."  
  
Remy parked at the side of the curb, then walked around to open Marie's door for her.  
  
The park was nearly empty, the only other occupants being an elderly couple taking a stroll and a group of pre-teen boys playing soccer. The sun was in the process of setting, and a crisp breeze rattled the dry leaves on the trees.  
  
Remy still wore his dark sunglasses, although it must have been extremely difficult to see through them in the rapidly darkening dusk.  
  
"Don't ya evah take off those glasses?" Marie asked, frustration showing through her curiosity.  
  
"Non."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"M'eyes, dey're sensitive t'de light."  
  
_Now there's a cheap cop-out if Ah evah heard one. _ "Whatevah ya say, Remy."  
  
She kept staring up at his face, not taking her eyes off the reflective dark glasses as they walked. Eventually, her hand shot up to grab them playfully, but his hand was quicker and closed firmly around her wrist.  
  
"I said no, chére."  
  
"Oh, yer no fun."  
  
They walked a while longer in silence, until Remy abruptly broke away, settling himself under a gnarled old black walnut tree. Marie stood above him, staring down with her hands planted on her hips.  
  
"Ya promised me a walk, ya lazy swamp rat." She kicked his ankle playfully, unable to stop the grin on her face.  
  
"We wen' on a walk already. 'M tired." He stared right back up at her, returning the grin lopsidedly. "Join me down here, why don' y'?"  
  
She hesitantly sat down cross-legged a couple feet away.  
  
He chuckled, patting the ground beside him. "I meant come _here_. I won' bite y', chére, I promise."  
  
She did so nervously, very aware of his arm suddenly around her waist, his warm body very close to her own.  
  
"Dere now, was dat so bad?"  
  
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Ah guess not."  
  
He lifted a hand to brush her white-streaked hair out of her face. She immediately tensed; his hand dropped back down. She breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
The sun had finished setting; it was now officially night.  
  
"Ya gonna take off those things _now_?" Marie teased him, lightly tapping the side of his sunglasses.  
  
He jerked away. "Non."  
  
"Aw, come on. Ah just wanna see-" He swatted her hands away irritably. "When can Ah see 'em?"  
  
He smirked. "When I can touch y'- wit'out y'gloves."  
  
Marie froze._ Just drive a knife through mah heart, why don't ya, Remy? _ She looked away, focusing on a browning tuft of grass several yards away.  
  
"I was jus' jokin', chére."  
  
She ignored his statement, caught up in her own thoughts. _Ah should tell him, it's only fair…_ She took a deep breath. "Ya can't evah touch me, Remy."  
  
He frowned. "Quoi?"  
  
"Ah-" She managed to keep her tenacious hold on her composure. "Ah'm a mutant."  
  
"Oh, chére, y't'ink dat matters t'me? I like y'jus' de same, mutan', human-"  
  
"No, ya don't understand. Mah powers, Ah… absorb the mind a' anyone Ah touch. Memories, feelin's, powers, abilities, knowledge… everythin'. Ah… kissed a boy once. He went into a coma. Ah nevah forgave myself…"  
  
Remy held her tighter to him. "Why'n't y'_tell_ Remy dis? All dis time I t'ought y'din' like me or somet'in'."  
  
She shook her head against the leather coat. "Ah just didn't want ya ta think Ah was some sorta freak," she told him quietly. "And also, most guys aren't wantin' some girl they can't even touch."  
  
"I ain' most guys, chére." He took her gloved hand and held her first two fingers to his lips, letting them linger a moment longer than necessary. He then put her fingers to her own lips, holding them there for the same length of time.  
  
Somehow, there was more feeling and romance in that one gesture than there could possibly be in a hundred true kisses.  
  
  



	6. Part Six-- Truth

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 6  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. It's starting to get interesting, folks! Rogue finds out who Remy LeBeau really is.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Not much to say, but I feel strangely compelled to include an author's note no matter what. I love your feedback!! (Hint, hint)  
  


~*~  


  
He called.  
  
Marie had heard dozens of horror stories in which the girl met the guy of her dreams, but he never called. Remy called.  
  
She and Kitty had been begging for their own phone lines for quite some time. The professor finally gave in two months ago. But the number had never really come in handy until she scribbled it down on a napkin, handing it to the Cajun.  
  
The answering machine's happy blips greeted her when she entered her room after class. A push of a button informed her that she had "two new messages and zero old messages."  
  
The first was Kitty asking about advanced physics homework. Boring. Skip.  
  
The second was Remy. She recognized the warm velvety voice instantly, and her heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Marie?" He was twisting her name again, turning it into a thing of beauty as the vowels and consonants evolved into something beyond their former selves. "Dis is Remy LeBeau." As if that weren't obvious.   
  
He went on to say that he'd very much like to see her again, and went off on a small tangent in French, which she enjoyed playing back and listening to over and over again.  
  
Finally she collected the nerve to call the number he left.  
  
It was answered immediately. "What the hell do you want?" demanded a female voice.  
  
A woman. _Why is a woman answering Remy's phone?_ Rogue was completely thrown off guard. "Uh… is Remy there?"  
  
"LeBeau! One of your lady friends is on the phone!"  
  
Marie didn't know whether to be thankful that this woman was obviously on barely civil terms with Remy, or upset that she was 'one of his lady friends.'   
  
"Alló?"  
  
"Remy, sugah. It's Marie."  
  
"Chére! How're y'?"  
  
"Good, and how're ya?"  
  
"Good, now dat y've called."  
  
Marie couldn't help but grin, although the lady friends thing was still bothering her. "So Ah'm 'one a' yer lady friends,' huh, swamp rat?" she asked, stressing the 's' in friends.  
  
"Non, non, y're m'only lady friend, chére, y'don' got t'worry. Phillipa is… misinformed. Y're de only one Remy wan's."  
  
"Stop makin' us sick, Cajun," spat another voice in the background.  
  
"Une minute, chére, Remy's gon' t'take de phone in a more… private place." After a couple clicks he was back. "Y'still dere, chére?"  
  
"Yeah, Ah'm heah, sugah."  
  
They made plans to meet at a cozy little restaurant on Saturday. Rogue figured she could find some sort of transportation, but ended up walking to the bus station and taking it to within a block of the place.  
  
Remy was already sitting at a table by the front window, the setting sun reflecting in his sunglasses and playing across strands of chestnut hair.  
  
"Ya heah all by yer lonesome, or are ya meetin' someone, sugah?"  
  
"Chére!" He took her hand and brought it to his lips, not letting go of it even as she sat down across from him. They chatted easily and constantly, only breaking contact and quieting when their food came.  
  
Marie shivered once from a breeze and Remy immediately put his leather duster around her shoulders. It smelled like Remy, tobacco and cologne and overall sweetness, but not overpowering. She put her hands in the pockets once, not thinking. Marlboros, a lighter, change, a small stick, and… playing cards?  
  
After they'd ordered dessert, Remy saw something over Marie's shoulder outside, and swore.  
  
"What?" She turned to look, but he put a hand to her face- he'd decided to wear gloves as well, that night- to prevent her from doing so.  
  
"Mebbe he won' see us."  
  
They had no such luck.  
  
A large man burst into the quiet restaurant. He wore some kind of fur, and snarled at the staring patrons. Sabertooth. Marie panicked. _What's he doin' heah?_  
  
Remy stood up slowly, not showing the slightest sign of fear. "Y'can' touch me, y'know. Essex'll kill y'."  
  
_Essex? _ Surely not Nathaniel Essex, also known as Sinister.  
  
Sabertooth gripped Remy's neck firmly, lifting the tall man easily. "No one has to _tell _him, now _do _they?" He traced Remy's cheek with a claw. "I would love to slit your throat right now. Just like I did to that girlfriend of yours. Do you remember that, LeBeau?"  
  
"Nique-toi, Creed," he spat, tearing off a glove and gripping Sabertooth's jacket in order to- do what, exactly?  
  
Sabertooth dropped him, and the Cajun fell to the floor with a thud. He reached for a pocket that wasn't there and swore. "Mes cartes, chérie!" he called to Marie.  
  
Sabertooth was ready to attack, claws unsheathed. Remy grabbed the only loose object he had- his sunglasses- and held them up. His hand began to glow a light orange-red, then the glow spread to the glasses as well. He flung the glasses at his enemy, and they exploded on impact.  
  
Marie gasped. What had Remy just done? She stared at the fight, entranced, but had the presence of mind to dig out the pack of cards she'd found and toss them to Remy.   
  
"Merci, chére." He repeated the process he'd performed on the glasses on a card. Sabertooth growled as it hit, and swiped at Remy with a clawed hand. Remy flipped backward to avoid it, landing easily on his feet.  
  
Marie jammed her hands back in the coat's pockets, looking for something that Remy might need. She pulled out the short metal stick curiously, turning it in her hand to examine it closer. It extended as she turned it, almost hitting her in the mouth.   
  
"What in tarnation?"  
  
"T'anks again, ma chére." Remy let loose another handful of cards, then took the staff from Rogue. He planted it firmly in the floor, and used the leverage to catapult through the air until his feel connected solidly with Sabertooth's chest.  
  
Sabertooth got up, throwing Remy against a wall. The Cajun groaned and stirred slightly. Sabertooth picked him up and repeated the process, until Remy was still.  
  
Rogue ducked down under the table, praying Sabertooth wouldn't notice or recognize her. He didn't. He growled at the patrons one more time, then left.  
  
"Remy? Remy! Are ya okay? Please be okay!" Marie ran to his side and shook him desperately.  
  
He let out a long stream of guttural curses, a colorful mix of French and English, and pulled himself into a sitting position. He stared at the floor and took a deep breath. "Chére, y'd better go."  
  
"Ah'm not leavin' 'till Ah'm sure ya're all right." She put a hand to the side of his face, which he shrugged off.  
  
"'M fine."  
  
"No, ya're not. Look at me." She put a leather-clad finger under his chin, lifting his face until she was staring into his eyes.  
  
His red and black eyes.  
  
Logan's words came back to her, mixing with the tumult of emotions assaulting her brain. _"…Damn Gambit kid. Does some thing to cards, makes 'em explode when they hit… That kid's the devil, I swear. You didn't see his eyes, Marie. Blood-red on pitch black. And completely empty. Promise me you'll never get involved with anyone like that ever, darlin'."  
_  
"I'm a mutan' too, chére," Remy told her quietly.  
  
She backed away from him slowly. "G- g-" She tried to get the word out of her mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. "Gambit," she finally managed. "Ya're Gambit."  
  
"Oui, je suis Gambit." His gaze dropped back to the floor.  
  
"Gambit," she repeated, closing her eyes in pain. "_Gambit_."  
  
"Chére, I-"  
  
She stood up, still backing away. A tear escaped from her eye, and she blinked it away angrily. That damn lying Cajun bastard wasn't worth crying over. "Don't try ta talk ta me, ya heah, _Gambit_? Ah nevah want ta see ya again." With that, she ran out of the restaurant and all the way back to the mansion.  
  
Logan had been wrong about one thing, though. His eyes… they weren't the cold, hard eyes of a demon she would've expected. They were beautiful, sparkling rubies against a midnight sky. And they held the world in them.  
  


~*~  


  
Remy LeBeau, the mutant known as Gambit, slammed his car door behind him angrily and stormed into Sinister's base, his home for longer than he'd care to admit.  
  
"Date not go well?" asked Vertigo, voice saccharine sweet.  
  
He didn't reply, merely stomped past her toward his room.  
  
"Gambit?" It was Sinister. Remy let out a sigh of relief. He'd much rather face the mad scientist than several of the others around.  
  
"Oui?"  
  
"Did Sabertooth attack you?" Remy said nothing, but looked down at his claw-tattered clothing. "He did, didn't he?"  
  
Gambit sighed. He was Sinister's pet, and Sabertooth knew it. It therefore wasn't Gambit's fault that Sabertooth would be punished. The animal was, after all, only a Marauder.  
  
"Gambit, honey. I was worried about you, running around with that good-for-nothing tramp of an-"  
  
"Vertigo, s'il vous plait. Gambit don' wan' t'hear it maintenant." He managed a small smirk of a smile, and tried to edge past her to his room.  
  
"Hold on a sec, why don't you?" She put a hand to his chest preventing him from walking forward. Her other hand snaked up to around his neck, entangling itself in soft auburn hair. "You still in such a rush to leave, Gambit?" she purred.  
  
He humored her with a smile and a quick kiss. He'd slept with her once, and she hadn't left him alone since. "Gambit really need t'go, chére."  
  
Vertigo frowned and abruptly drew away. "Fine," she spat.  
  
Gambit breathed a sigh of relief, went into his room and flopped dejectedly on his bed.  
  
"You alright, LeBeau?"  
  
He looked up at the mutant in his doorway. Lorna Dane, also known as Polaris. She was just as dangerous as the rest of them, but Remy somehow got the impression that it was a put-on. Before his empathic powers were dampened, he had noticed a definite lack of the same through-and-through malice as the other Marauders. He still picked it up occasionally.  
  
"Gambit jus' peachy, chére."  
  
She entered the room, reclining in a chair as she fidgeted with the choker perpetually around her neck. "Troubles with the women? The first time I've heard that with you, Cajun."  
  
"Oui. M'girl ditches me when she sees m'eyes, den Vertigo's comin' on t'me, and-"  
  
"You must've been insane when you got with her," Polaris jibbed, knowing of Vertigo's constant attention.  
  
"Gambit wasn' t'inkin' straight, dat for sure," he mused, then looked up at Lorna with a charming grin. "If he been t'inkin' straight, he'd a' got wit' y', chére."  
  
The green haired lady laughed and got up. "You are _such _a flirt, LeBeau."  
  
"Je sais. But it mos'ly works, neh?"  
  
"Mos'ly," she repeated, mimicking his accent. She reached his door, then turned back. "By the way, Sinister's got another one of his 'projects' for you."  
  
"Dat's just great," Remy muttered to the empty air. He was endlessly completing these tasks for his boss, and none seemed to turn out so well. He got the feeling that all of them were building toward _something_, but he had no idea what.  
  
He made his way to Sinister's lab, waiting outside and playing a quick game of one-hand solitaire. Eventually his boss let him in.  
  
"Gambit," greeted the scientist with all of a smile that ever graced his face. Red eyes blazed coldly from metallic skin. He had complete control over his body's molecules, allowing him a number of super-human abilities. "You are ready for another project." It was not a question.  
  
Remy didn't dare contradict him. "Oui."  
  
Sinister's lips curved again, this time the glint in his dead eyes betraying what kind of project this would turn out to be. "There is a young mutant girl who could benefit my cause greatly. Code name of Rogue. Do you recognize this name?"  
  
Gambit thought a moment. "One a' de X-Men, non?"  
  
"Yes. Her power to absorb others' powers could be extremely useful. Just think of all the experiments…"  
  
_Dis sound familiar somehow… Well, I guess more dan one mutan' can have de same power. Dere are more telepat's dan I could ever count.  
_  
"…I need you to sneak into Xavier's school and kidnap this young girl."  
  
"Wait, wait… y'wan' Gambit t'_kidnap_ a girl? Dat not what Gambit does…"  
  
Sinister raised an eyebrow, amused at the Cajun's insolence while informing that he would not tolerate any more. "You are the only one who could get past their security, Gambit. Kidnapping is no different than theft really. It is merely stealing a person rather than an object."  
  
"All right, Gambit will kidnap de girl. Y'wan' it done t'night?"  
  
"Preferably. Her room is on the second floor, number 224."  
  
The Cajun nodded once, and left to prepare for his mission. He donned body armor, clothes that allowed him to move about freely, a face mask that left only the slimmest slice of his face showing, and, of course, his trench coat. He faltered once, and swore, smelling a trace of Marie's perfume that had lingered along the collar.  
  
_Damn girl. Don' need her. I can find someone else t'night, someone I can touch…  
_  
He slipped silently out of the base in search of the mansion and a different mutant he could not touch contained within.  
  
The mansion was easily located. It would have been tough for anyone but a master thief to get past the security systems, but Gambit had seen ones like them before. He faced the girl's window, red eyes cutting through the darkness easily, and vaulted himself up to the balcony in one elegant motion.  
  
"P'tite," he called softly. "C'mere, p'tite, Gambit not gon' t'hurt y'." He stepped into the room smoothly and looked around. It didn't look like a young girl's room. But it had to be the correct one; Sinister's information had yet to be false. He approached the sleeping girl, curled on the bed under a thick cover.   
  
He pulled the blanket back slowly, careful not to wake the girl. Dark brown hair. With a streak of pure white. The beautiful face, ever peaceful in sleep, was immediately recognizable.   
  
"Mon Dieu," he whispered. "Marie, y'r…"  
  
She stirred.  
  
"Merde, I got t'get out a' here-"  
  
"Remy?" she asked sleepily, smiling contentedly. Then she remembered, and her countenance soured. "Gambit. What the hell are ya doin' heah, Cajun?"  
  
"Y'r Rogue?" he asked dumbly.  
  
"Ah'm Rogue."  
  
"Y'didn' tell Gambit y'were an X-Man, chére," he accused.  
  
"Well, ya didn't exactly tell _me _that ya were a Marauder," she shot back.  
  
"Gambit is _not _a Marauder! He jus' work for Sinister-"  
  
"Same difference." She climbed out of bed from her sitting position, standing in front of him. She was all too aware that her white nightgown was both thin and short. "Why're ya heah, Gambit? Ah know ya didn't stop by just ta say hello."  
  
He looked away, torn inside. He had Sinister's orders… but if something happened to Rogue… and he still wanted to be with her… perhaps there was a way to solve all three problems with one fell swoop. "Come wit' me, chére."  
  
"Why would Ah go with _you_?"  
  
"Look, somet'in' bad's gon' t'happen t'y'if y'don'-"  
  
She snorted. "Right. Ah'm about ta believe that. Ah'm just gonna pick up and go off with ya. Ya're the _enemy_, Gambit. Ah'm s'posed ta _fight _ya, don't ya get it?"  
  
"So fight Gambit. He don' care." He stepped away, allowing her to get in a good punch.  
  
"Ah- Ah can't."  
  
"Why not? Y'take off y'gloves, Gambit get his cards, it be fun."  
  
"Ah don't want ta hurt ya," Rogue said quietly.  
  
He pulled her to him gently. "So y'care 'bout ol' Gambit after all, neh?"  
  
"No." She shook her head. "But… Ah care 'bout Remy LeBeau, and Ah know he's inside ya somewhere." Marie slowly slipped off a glove. "Ah know ya're gonna get in trouble if ya go back without me."  
  
"Aw, don' worry 'bout Gam-"  
  
"Shh," she cut him off, raising her finger to her lips. He noticed with a shock that it was bare. "Ah'm sorry, Gambit."  
  
Rogue gently put her hand to his cheek. He froze, eyes and mouth wide open in shock as his very being drained from his body. His veins swelled, and he began to spasm uncontrollably. She released him, and he fell to the floor unconscious, but still convulsing.   
  
The commotion brought a crowd to her door. Logan was the first there.  
  
"Marie, are you okay?" he asked, deep blue eyes taking in the situation.  
  
She turned on him, red eyes blazing. She picked up an empty glass and began to charge it. "De question, mon ami, is will _y_'be okay?" The Cajun accent was thick and felt wrong in her mouth.  
  
Marie quickly drew the charge back in, realizing what she had been about to do. "Get outta mah head!" she cried in vain, clutching her forehead.  
  
_Ah didn't mean ta absorb him that much! If only Ah had some sorta control ovah mah powers. Ah only wanted ta help, and look where it gets me.  
_  
_M'powers are completely out a' control. All dey do is hurt people, anymore. Dere's not'in' I can do 'bout it, eit'er. Mebbe I should take Dr. Essex up on dat offer a' his.  
_  
"Got t'find de docteur," she mumbled, taking Gambit's trench coat and leaping down from her balcony with all the grace of a practiced thief.  



	7. Part Seven-- Another Self

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 7  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. Gambit's personality has led Rogue to Sinister's laboratory.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: Sorry this took awhile to get up. Things have been… stressful… and this one is kinda long. The next chapter will probably take awhile, too. Also, I would like to apologize for the blatant cop-out re: Rogue's added powers. I was too damn lazy to try and work in the whole Ms. Marvel deal.  
And another note: Rogue's first boyfriend's name is David, not Cody, in the movie. This bothers the hell out of me, but I watched the movie in closed-captioning and Marie's dad calls him David. So I figured that I better keep it the same. But I don't have to like it.  
  


~*~  


  
Polaris regarded the girl with wary green eyes.  
  
"Y'gon' t'let m'in, chére?" she drawled, leaning seductively in the doorway. She took off her sunglasses in one smooth motion, revealing scarlet on ebony.  
  
"Gambit?" the Marauder gasped. "Is that you in there?"  
  
"What y'talkin' 'bout? Y'crazy? Lemme in, why don' y'?"  
  
"Uh… sure, Gambit." Lorna backed away slowly, then turned and ran.  
  
"Polaris! Where are you to so hurriedly?" inquired Sinister, smirking at her uneasiness.  
  
"There's a girl… she has Gambit _inside _her, or something…"  
  
Sinister smiled coldly. "Ah. So Rogue has arrived. Excellent…"   
  
"Oh mah Lord, where _am _Ah?" Marie glanced around the compound fretfully, panicking.  
  
"Calm yourself, child," Sinister instructed, revealing himself.   
  
"Sinister?" she yelped. "Oh mah Lord… Merde! How'd Gambit get here?"  
  
"What is your name, child?" asked the doctor, enjoying the tortured expressions the question produced.  
  
_Ah'm Rogue.  
  
Je m'appelle Gambit.  
  
Marie.  
  
How'd y'like y'name t'be Remy LeBeau from now on, p'tit?  
  
Mah gloves-  
  
De ace a' spades.  
  
Ah'm all alone-_  
  
"Mah name? Ah'm- the Ace."  
  


~*~  


  
"I'll kill him now," Logan growled, baring his claws and lunging at the unconscious man.  
  
"Logan, stop." Jean's voice sounded tired, frustrated. First Scott was put into the Med Lab and now this-  
  
"You gonna stop me?"  
  
"Perhaps it would be best if I kept him under my care," Beast spoke up.  
  
"What? Look at what he did to Rogue…"  
  
"What Rogue did to _him_," Henry corrected.  
  
_The X-Men do not deny medical care to anyone who needs it_, Professor Xavier reminded them telepathically. _I am sure he would not attack us if he woke under our care.  
_  
They brought their enemy down to the Med Lab and placed him on a bed next that of a sleeping Cyclops.  
  
Ororo had been making a late-night cup of tea in the kitchen, and heard the shouts from the group as they headed toward the basement.  
  
"Who's the patient?" she called.  
  
No answer.  
  
She abandoned her tea and followed them. "Who is the patient?" she asked again as she entered the medical laboratory. She approached the unconscious form and gasped. "_Remy_?"  
  
"We found him like this in Rogue's bedroom. Rogue had absorbed him, and ran off," Hank explained.  
  
"What was Remy doing in Marie's room?" Storm asked, stroking his long auburn hair as if trying to comfort the still boy.  
  
"We do not know," said Professor X as he wheeled into the lab. "I cannot find Rogue; she has absorbed Gambit's psi shields. She could be anywhere."  
  


~*~  


  
Ace lay on Gambit's bed, sleeping restlessly. She'd been having Gambit's dreams.  
  
_"Y'and Lapin are m'only real friends, Bella. Y'can' do dis t'me."  
  
The blonde assassin said nothing.  
  
"C'mon, Bella. I don' even know what y'mad at me for. Like I said, y'm'best friend," Remy continued to plead.  
  
"Dat's all I ever am t'y', Remy. Une amie. I jus' can' take dat right now." Belladonna Boudreaux turned and walked away.  
  
"Bella, wait!" Remy ran to catch up with her. She stopped, but refused to look up at him. "Y'know we can' be anyt'in' else, Belle," he told her quietly. "Mon pere is de leader a' de t'ieves, an yours is de leader a' de assassins. We s'posed t'hate each ot'er, assassins and t'ieves."  
  
"Why does dat matter? We been friends since f'ever, Remy. People got used t'it. Dey can get used t'… anyt'in'." She walked closer to him as she spoke, slyly slipping her arms around his neck. His own arms went around her slender waist of their own accord.  
  
"Bella, I…"  
  
"Remy, will y'shut up f'once in y'life?"  
  
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."  
  
She kissed him. Things fastforwarded themselves a bit, and when he finally drew back, it was right after their engagement. This kiss was empty, merely performed for the sake of those watching.  
  
They no longer loved each other. They were to be married for the sole purpose of uniting the LeBeau and Boudreaux families, the Thieves' Guild and the Assassins'.   
  
"Come over here f'jus' une minute, dear sister," called Julien Boudreaux.  
  
Fast forward again.  
  
"Come'n fight me, LeBeau, y'salaud modifié," challenged Julien, brandishing a sward. They were outside, the dark Cajun air thick and oppressive.  
  
"De filthy bastard is y', Boudreax," Remy spat. A sword of his own was in his hand. "Bec mon chu." {Kiss my ass.}  
  
Julien attacked first, and Remy's sword met his with a loud clang. The thief could've taken him down in an instant, charging the sword, or a rock, or some cards in his pocket with mutant energy. But somehow that didn't seem fair.  
  
Fair? What was fair? This wasn't. He was supposed to win this duel, he was sure of it. Then why was his stomach unguarded for that one necessary instant, why was Boudreaux preparing to strike him on last time, why was the outcome in his mind always different than the one which had occurred in reality…_  
  
Ace woke up in a cold sweat.  
  
"Come, Ace. It is time for your operation."  
  


~*~  


  
"Remy, can you hear me?" Ororo asked. She sat in a hard chair next to his unmoving form. They were the only two in the Med Lab, as Cyclops had gotten up a couple hours before. She hesitantly put a hand to his pale face and frowned.  
  
Remy was an empath, she knew that much from her short time with him. She recalled putting her hand in his and receiving a flood of emotions from him. Love. Protectiveness. Fear. But this time, she felt nothing.  
  
"Remy?" she called again, slightly louder.  
  
The only answer was his shallow breathing.  
  
She sighed, and placed her hand on his. "Remy, Remy, Remy. Why didn't you stay with me, with the X-Men? We could have helped you. Protected you. Now you are… like this," she paused, becoming a little choked up. "and under the employment of Sinister. We are forced to be enemies, brother. Why? Why did you…" she trailed off.  
  
She felt a light pressure on her hand, being squeezed in a reassuring gesture. Then it was gone.  
  


~*~  


  
"No, Ah don't- please- let me go! Please-" Ace struggled as two Marauders pinned her to an operating table. Sinister loomed above, looking especially menacing. She screamed.  
  
"Shhh, child. Such carrying on will get you nowhere." His voice was cold despite the seemingly kind words. He turned to Blockbuster and Harpoon. "Secure her bindings."  
  
They fastened her to the table with metal straps, dashing her hopes of escape. The next instant, all she felt was pain. And lots of it. She had flashes of Wolverine's memory of the admantium bonding. Then Gambit's memory of an operation similar to the one she was currently undergoing.   
  
She passed out.  
  
She'd been having Gambit's dreams…  
  
_He'd always been an empath, as long as he could remember. Always been a mutant. Always had the demon's eyes.  
  
His empathy, the "charm power," started becoming a problem when he was eight or so. It was powerful, and he couldn't control it. Many a time, he'd unknowingly charmed some unsuspecting person… sometimes they took advantage of him… He had no real defense against them, then. His control of kinetics had been a minor power, a small bonus ability.  
  
Eventually he gained some control over it. He built up shields, layer after layer, keeping as much of it bottled up as possible. After being taken in by Jean-Luc LeBeau and family, those who would prey on young attractive flesh were no longer a problem, either. In fact, his powers were coming along very well.  
  
Until his kinetic abilities began to flare up.  
  
When he was angry, things around hi would charge and blow up. Objects, plants, even animals. He had minimal control over this, and it required intense concentration. The power seemed to grow stronger everyday. He'd been so afraid that one day he'd reach for Belladonna, she'd begin to glow, and-  
  
He sighed. At least now he didn't have to worry about hurting Bella. Or Henri, or his father, or Tante Mattie, or anyone else he cared about in New Orleans. Of course, he couldn't see them, either.  
  
Just the other day, a tall man introduced himself to Remy, said he could help. Nathaniel Essex. _I want to help you_, he'd said. _I can perform an operation that would return your powers to a normal level. I'd only require one thing as payment, one small favor-_  
  
"Chirr-eep?" Remy turned to look at the small sparrow. The small, glowing, sparrow. Three, two, one-  
  
"Non," he whispered.  
  
"Chirr-eep?" the bird repeated. And then was no more.  
  
Remy turned away.   
  
_M'powers are completely out a'control, he thought. All dey do is hurt people. Dere's not'in' I can do anymore. Mebbe I should take Dr. Essex up on dat offer a' his.  
  


~*~  


  
  
"That man is our _enemy_, and he's being treated in _our _facilities!"  
  
"Scott, please, calm down, you shouldn't be up, you'll-"  
  
"Well, obviously, Jean, no one has been making good decisions while I've been recuperating, so-"  
  
::Snikt:: "You saying we ain't able to do your job?"  
  
"Logan, _please_."  
  
"I believe that the professor was correct in saying that we should not deny medical care- "  
  
"Oh, come _on_, Hank. That kid could destroy our school, tear our team apart if we give him a chance… He's already got Storm down there, fawning over him."  
  
"Storm is merely concerned for her friend."  
  
A derisive snort. "Sure. We should snap a power inhibitor collar on him, see if she still feels the same way about him… he's probably an empath or something."  
  
"As much as I hate to admit it, and believe me, Cyke, I do, but One Eye here is right. We don't know what the kid's capable of. The second he wakes up, he'll be able to do anything he wants."  
  
"We should at _least _get a power inhibitor collar on him-"  
  
A figure entered the room from where he had been eavesdropping, by the doorway. "Y'talkin' bout _Gambit_, mes amis?"  
  


~*~  


  
She'd been having Gambit's dreams…  
  
Long day. Dead tired. Need a good stiff drink._  
  
"Remy, every time you come in here, you ask for a bourbon, and every time I tell you we don't serve drinks to minors."  
  
Damned mutant bastard. They acted civil toward one another, but both knew it was only a thin cover. He smiled easily. "Je sais, je sais. Coke, den." _Eight more mont's… jus' huit mont's. Den I'll get m'bourbon, den I t'ink I'll charge de counter… dat will be fun.  
_  
His drink was set in front of him. "Merci."  
  
_Somebody starin' at me…_  
  
He turned to stare back. The girl quickly looked away. Her green hood partially covered her face, but- _Damn she pretty._  
  
He quickly made up his mind to approach her. "Bonjour, chére."  
  
"Hello," she greeted quietly. Her gaze remained fixed to her sandwich.  
  
_P'haps if I use a little a' de charm power…_ He slowly let some leak out.  
  
The man who ran the diner glared at him. Along with telekinesis, he could tell when other mutants' powers were in use. "Aw, Cajun, leave the poor girl 'lone."  
  
Remy waved him off but obediantly recalled the charm. "Shh! Remy talkin' t'de femme-"   
_  
Ace woke with a start. Strong hands were pinning her down, there was something metal, something cold and hard and metal coming down on her neck.  
  
::Click!::  
  
A part of her innermost being was draining away, pulling her apart from the inside, and she was only Rogue again.  
  
No, not even Rogue. Only Marie.  
  
She went back to sleep.  
  


~*~  


  
Gambit sauntered into the X-Men meeting room. Storm was directly behind him.  
  
"Gambit don' t'ink he like de idea a' wearin' a collar much, m'sieur."  
  
All of the X-Men save Storm prepared for battle.  
  
"Hey, hey! Gambit don' wan' t'fight y'all."  
  
They backed down only slightly.  
  
"What were y'doin' in her room, kid?" Wolverine demanded.  
  
The Cajun grinned infuriatingly. "Jus' stoppin' by t'say bonjour t'an ol' amie."  
  
With one quick movement the older man had a tight grip on Gambit's neck and threatened his heart with three claws. "Your next words sure as hell better be the truth, else I'll personally make 'em your last."  
  
He realized he wouldn't be able to sweet-talk his way out of this one. "Sinister sent Gambit t'get de girl."  
  
"I'll kill you-"  
  
"Remy didn' know it was _her_. He never would a' hurt Marie none," he interrupted.  
  
Logan hesitated. "How do you know Marie, Gumbo?" he snarled.  
  
Gambit didn't answer.  
  
"The _truth_, and make it snappy, or I'll rip that pretty little head of yours clean off your neck."  
  
"Perhaps you could be slightly more sympathetic in your inquiries, Logan," Beast suggested.  
  
Wolverine merely growled.  
  
"Gambit answer y'if y'let him go," he bargained.  
  
Logan reluctantly released the Acadian's neck and sheathed his claws. "All right, Cajun. Talk."  
  
"Remy met her at de diner. She pretty girl, Remy like her, she like him. We go out, have fun."  
  
"If you expect me to believe that Marie fell for a bastard like you-"  
  
"It jus' tear y'part, don' it, mon vieux? Y'precious p'tite, wit' moi-"  
  
Professor X wheeled into the room, causing everyone to fall silent.  
  
"Mr. LeBeau, I see that you are up. Good." He turned to the rest of them. "I have found Rogue's location using Cerebro, now that she no longer has Gambit's shields."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"She is within Sinister's laboratory."  
  
Everyone erupted in noise, offers to rescue her, and general consternation.  
  
Gambit cut them off. "Professeur, let me get Rogue. Dis is my fault, I fix it."  
  
Xavier nodded. "I think that is a good idea."  
  
"What?" Cyclops exclaimed. "Professor, I strongly-"  
  
"Gambit would be able to sneak in unnoticed, and could find her quickly."  
  
"Oui. None a' y'all would be able t'get in wit'out a huge commotion. Gambit get in, get de girl, get out, redeem himself."  
  
"But Professor, we'd be letting him not only go free, but return to Sinister. We have no reason to believe that he will actually rescue Rogue and bring her back."  
  
"Believe me, homme, dere ain' a worse punishment dan sendin' Gambit back t'Sinny and de Marauders now," he told them outright.  
  
"How would you propose to rescue Rogue if you are on poor terms with Sinister?"  
  
"Gambit a t'ief, 'member? He get de girl, don' worry."  
  


~*~  


  
"Gambit, how thoughtful of you to finally join us," Sinister greeted coolly.  
  
"Can I kill him now?" asked Sabertooth, claws ready.  
  
"No, I have better plans for him. Blockbuster?"  
  
Gambit looked around but did not see the large man anywhere. He was then hit over the head from behind. _Oh look, de floor_, he thought before passing out.  
  
Blockbuster snapped a Genoshan power inhibitor collar on the unconscious Cajun, and slung him over one shoulder. "Where do you want him?"  
  
"Down in the laboratory cells. He made such a charming addition to our friend Ace. I'm planning to make it permanent."  
  


~*~  


  
Someone had deposited another person in a cell two down from Marie's. She didn't see what they looked like; she'd been pretending to sleep.  
  
_Finally, someone besides the walls ta have a conversation with. _ "Hello?" she called.  
  
No answer. Probably unconscious. She sighed. Best to get some sleep, perhaps when she awoke the person would be up.  
  
Indeed, he was. Marie woke up to twin crimson beads glowing brightly at her in the dark.  
  
"Remy?" she gasped, running to the edge of her cell closest to his and grasping the bars tightly. "Remy, is that you?"  
  
"De name is Gambit, or did y'f'get, chére?" His voice was cold and tired.  
  
"Re- Gambit," she corrected herself. The word still left a bad taste in her mouth. "Ah'm sorry 'bout what Ah did ta ya. But Ah was scared, and Ah guessed that ya were there for Sinister, cause Ah mean Ah just found out that ya were one a' the 'bad guys' and what else was Ah supposed ta think, and…" she trailed off. "Ah'm sorry."  
  
He didn't say anything for awhile. "It okay, chére." He let out a frustrated sigh, looking around at their surroundings. "Gambit s'posed t'rescue y'."  
  
"_Really_? That's the sweetest thing Ah evah heard! Can ya-"  
  
"Gambit in de same position y'are, chére," he reminded.  
  
"Oh yeah. Ah knew that." She sighed heavily. "Don't ya _work _for Sinister? Why're ya all locked up?"  
  
"Experiment, I guess. Same as y'. Pro'ly de same one. Y'been t'rough Sinny's 'periments afore, chére?"  
  
"Yeah. He… Ah went through one earliah." She remembered the pain, then had a flash of Gambit's previous experiment. More pain. Then Logan's, with the Weapon X program. Even more pain. She cried out.  
  
"Y'okay, chére?"  
  
"Yeah, just… one a' yer mem'ries."  
  
"Y'still got a lot a' dem?"  
  
"A few. They're leavin' pretty fast, though."  
  
He paused. "Y'don' like what y'see, do y'. Gambit… not a good homme."  
  
"Remy, don't talk like that." Her voice sounded harsh and dry to her own ears. "Ya had reasons for what ya did, even if they weren't always the best ones. And ya feel _bad _about it. If ya weren't a good man ya wouldn't be agonizin' 'bout it now."  
  
He didn't say anything.  
  
"Ah always thought Gambit was some cold-blooded killer, some psychopath my team- my _family_- had ta deal with-"  
  
"Je ne suis pas un monstre," he spat. {I am not a monster!}  
  
"Ah _know _that, Remy. Ah'm not sayin' that ya _are _all that stuff. Ah'm sayin' that Ah was _wrong_. Once Ah got ta know ya, Ah liked ya. And Ah'm not gonna let the fact that ya're Gambit get in the way a' mah opinion a' ya."  
  
He looked away, pensive. "Y'mean all dat, chére?" he asked slowly. "Or did y'ju' say it 'cause it sounded kinda pretty?"  
  
"Ah meant every bit a' it."  
  
He started fumbling with the top button of his shirt.  
  
"What the hell are ya _doin'_, swamp rat?"  
  
He held the unattached button up triumphantly. "Gettin' us outta here, chére."  
  
The button was then broken in two, and the sharp point of one half was jammed into the locking device on the Genoshan collar. Thirty seconds later it was off.  
  
Remy rolled his head, rubbing the sore muscles of his neck. His power slowly returned and coursed comfortably through his veins. "Damn, I hate dese t'in's."  
  
He broke the collar at the hinge and charged one half. _Powers workin' fine, now all I got t'do is save de girl and get de hell out a' here_, he thought, grinning. He flung the glowing collar at the bars keeping him in. It exploded.  
  
Remy stepped through the rubble and began to repeat the procedure. "Stand back," he told Marie, who was grasping the bars separating them in a death grip.  
  
She did so, and the barrier between them was gone. She ran and hugged Remy tightly.  
  
"Chére…" _Dis is it, LeBeau. Now or never. _ He raised a finger to her face, gently tucking a white strand of hair behind her ear and tracing her jawline.  
  
She jerked back, unused to the feel of someone else's skin against her own. But she felt none of his personality entering her own and gave him a small, nervous smile. "Remy, Ah-"  
  
"Shh." He held a finger against her lips, then drew back and merely stared at her. "Tu es trés, trés belle, ma chérie…" {You are very, very beautiful, my dearie…}  
  
_Don't start with the French, Cajun_, Marie thought pleadingly. She might have some semblance of rational thought if he didn't, enough presence of mind to step back and end all this. She'd have to be insane to let this go on.  
  
"Je veux t'embrasser," he continued softly, pulling her closer.  
  
_Damn that French._ She tried not to think of how it sounded in her ear and looked at it from an analytical viewpoint, dissecting the sentence. _I want… verb in the infinitive, direct object 'you'…_ But the French she'd absorbed from Gambit's mind was rapidly failing her.  
  
"What does 'embrasser' mean?" she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper.  
  
He smirked slightly. "Dis."  
  
His lips brushed agains hers, and her thoughts were torn painfully away to another time, another place…  
  
Her home in Mississippi. Her room. It had always been a place of comfort. And now she had a boy in her room. David.   
  
_"Won't it be kinda cold?"  
  
"That's the point, stupid. Otherwise it wouldn't be an adventure."_  
  
And he kissed her, and it was supposed to be the best moment of her teenage life. It was, at first. Then David froze, and his thoughts, his memories, his _life_, were all invading her mind.  
  
But here she was, with Remy. His thoughts were his alone to know. She had a Genoshan collar on. Remy was not David.  
  
Remy was _definitely _not David.  
  
David's kiss had been a chaste little thing before it had become a nightmare. This was… well, it _wasn't _a chaste little thing. It had somehow deepened without her noticing, and her hands found themselves entangled in his silky auburn hair.  
  
She pulled herself away, anxiety rising in her chest. "Remy- Ah can't-"  
  
"I'm not gon' t'say I'm sorry, chére. 'Cause I'm not."  
  
"Ya know ya won't be able ta touch me. Not _evah_."  
  
"So we best get all de touchin' out a' de way now, neh?" He grinned, and moved to kiss her again.  
  
"Remy, Ah'm bein' serious, heah."  
  
He sighed and closed his eyes, one hand holding his forehead. "Chére, Remy-"  
  
"Ah don't want any a' yer third-person bullshit, Remy."  
  
"Bon. _I_," he started, stressing the pronoun, "look at it dis way. Eit'er I can be wit' y', and not touch y', or I can be wit'out y'- and I'm still not able t'touch y'. I rat'er be wit' y', chére."  
  
"Remy, ya don't deserve ta be all chained up ta someone like me. Ya deserve-"  
  
"Shush. Don' be tellin' me what I do and don' deserve. I _don' _deserve y', y'right 'bout dat, but it ain' for de reasons dat y're sayin'. Chére, I… I like y'a lot, and I don' wan' t'jus' let y'go like _dat_." He snapped his fingers for effect.  
  
"Look, Remy, can't ya see this won't work?"  
  
"Non."  
  
She sighed exasperatedly. "Ya're _impossible_!"  
  
"Dis is de first time y'been able t'touch in a long time. Y'gon' t'waste it arguin'?"  
  
_He has a point…_  
  
"I mean, y'got a very handsome Cajun-" Marie snorted. "-alone. In de dark. And y're sittin' here tellin' me _why _y'don' wan' t'touch me- it's a blow t'my reputation."  
  
"Yer 'reputation' is exactly what Ah'm talkin' 'bout. Ya gonna be able ta handle a girlfriend ya can't touch?"  
  
"Only if it's y'."  
  
She smiled, and he raised a hand to caress her cheek. His touch was gentle, but it was unbearable torture. Knowing that this could never happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the next or the next… Was she really worried about whether _Remy _could take it, or if _she _could? His touch was so painful… tears rolled down her cheeks.  
  
"Don' _cry_, chére. Please don' cry. Dis happy time, neh?" He wiped her tears away, then kissed both her cheeks, then her lips…  
  
She tore herself away. "Just… take the collar off a' me." It hurt her to tell him that. She wanted to stay with him, touch him… but she'd just be prolonging the inevitable.   
  
"Marie, chére, y-"  
  
"Just do it, Cajun."  
  
"If y'say so." He began to pick the locking mechanism with the other half of his button.  
  
::Snap.::  
  
"Merde."  
  
"Remy? What happened?"  
  
"Not'in, chére… close y'eyes for une minute…"  
  
She did so. A sharp fizzling, crackling noise filled her ears. _Oh, mah Lord, he's usin' his powers on it- he's gonna blow mah head off-_  
  
He sent the small charge from his finger to the locking mechanism, praying that his newly found control wouldn't fail him now.  
  
The collar fell open on the cement floor.   
  
Gambit picked it up and charged it. "Now it's time t'blow dis Popsicle stand." The bars exploded, leaving them an open getaway.  
  
"Wait here," he instructed Marie. He left for several minutes, then returned with his coat and her gloves. "T'ought y'might wan' dese," he said, handing her the brown gloves, which she gratefully accepted and put on.  
  
They ran out of the imprisonment area, occasionally pausing as Gambit picked a lock. Finally they found themselves in a long, dark hallway.  
  
"We almost there yet?" Rogue complained.  
  
"Almost, chére."  
  
A growl thundered through the hall.  
  
Gambit turned around. "Merde!" Sabertooth was following them. "Run!" He threw a handful of charged cards behind him. They hit, but did not stop, the monster approaching them.  
  
They reached an exit. Gambit let loose another round of cards as Rogue struggled with the door. Locked. She pulled with all of her might- to her surprise, it came right off its hinges, easy as pie.  
  
They ran out of Sinister's bas and into a dense woods. Sabertooth was gaining on them. They kept running, hand in gloved hand, wanting to avoid direct conflict as long as possible, until-  
  
"Chére?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Chére, we not- we not on de ground."  
  
"Yeah, Ah noticed that."  
  
"We flyin'."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
A note of fear crept into his voice. "How we flyin', chére?"  
  
"Ah think that Ah'm doin' it somehow… but Ah dunno how Ah'm keepin' ya up too."  
  
He looked back down at Sabertooth, who was staring up at them, dumbfounded. "Au revior, salaud!" he called. {Goodbye, bastard!}  
  
The answering snarl was audible even at their height.  
  
Gambit laughed, then turned back to the Marauder. "Oh, merde. Rogue, fly outta de way a'-"  
  
Too late. An energy harpoon lodged itself in Rogue's stomach.  
  
The ground rushed toward them faster and faster. Gambit steered the two of them toward a forgiving shrubbery, maneuvering the weakening girl so that she landed on him instead of the other way around.  
  
"Marie, chére, y'okay?" he asked softly, after they'd had time to recover from the impromptu landing.  
  
No response.  
  
"Marie?"  
  
She was unconscious.  
  
He let loose a long string of guttural Cajun curses, and began trekking in the direction of the X-Mansion with Rogue slung over his shoulder. Night was falling. Every muscle in his body was screaming for him to stop, to give up. He refused to obey.  
  
The night air was crisp and silent, punctuated only by the occasional French obscenities and rantings. He was beginning to wonder if they were lost, when-  
  
The mansion._ Merci boucoup, Dieu._  
  
He forgot being tired, forgot being cold. He ran toward the entrance, shifting the girl to a more comfortable carrying position, one arm supporting her legs, the other her back.  
  
Storm answered the door.  
  
"Marie… she hurt. Harpoon… got her."  
  
"We'll take good care of her."  
  
"Merci."  
  
"Remy… we could take good care of you, as well."  
  
He shook his head. "Y'don' understand, chére. I _got _t'go back."  
  
"Please, Remy. I don't want to have to fight you anymore. You could join the X-Men, we could be family again-"  
  
"I can'. Dis hard for me, Stormy, don' make it harder."  
  
She sighed. "Do not call me Stormy."  
  
He grinned sadly.  
  
"So you're just leaving her here. Like you left me here once. She will be all right, if only I could confidently say the same for you…"  
  
He held up a hand for her to stop. "I got t'go." He looked down at Rogue's peaceful face, looking like she was merely sleeping. "Y'all take… real good care a' her, neh? Tell her… tell her I sorry and I wish t'in's could be different… but dey not. Tell her I said je l'aime…"  
  
Storm smiled, understanding. "I will, friend. Be careful."  
  
"I always am." With that, Remy LeBeau turned and left, disappearing into the shadows.  
  


~*~  


  
  
  
  



	8. Part Eight-- War and Death

X-Men: A New Battle, Part 8  


  
Summary: An X-Men: the Movie sequel. The Mutant Massacre has started!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Gambit (damn), or Rogue, or any of the other X-Men. They are Marvel's, and the movie is Fox's. I am not making any money from this (damn again), so please don't sue.  
Author's Note: This is only the first half of what was originally going to be part eight. But it was getting long, and it's been awhile since I last posted, and considering that it would probably take me two more weeks to get it done if I included all of it, I decided to make the rest of that part nine, and then after that is the epilogue! (Unless another chapter sneaks in there somewhere…) Anyway, hopefully the next parts will get up faster than these last couple have been doing… sorry about that… well, on to the story already!  
  


~*~  


  
Rogue slowly opened her eyes, squinting from the bright fluorescent lights. A form loomed above her… young, male…  
  
"Remy?"  
  
The figure- sandy haired, she now noticed- frowned and turned away. "No, I'm not Remy."  
  
"Bobby. Ah'm sorry-"  
  
"It's okay," he dismissed curtly.  
  
"No, it isn't. Bobby, Ah haven't been too nice ta ya lately, Ah know-"  
  
"I don't really want to talk about it with you right now-"  
  
"Rogue. You have awakened from your prolonged state of unconsciousness." Henry McCoy interrupted them, entering the pristine room from his private laboratory. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Fine, Ah guess." She looked around the room. She was hooked up to several different monitors. Had she really been in danger of dying? "Hank, where's Remy?"  
  
"Gambit left after transporting you here, presumably returning to Sinister. He left a message for you with Storm, if you'd like she would be delighted to deliver it, I am sure."  
  
"Okay," she agreed, though her mind hadn't registered the word. _He left? Ta go back ta Sinister? But Ah thought- he- we- why?_  
  
"Rogue," Beast was continuing, "I noticed a slight difference in your DNA sequence. The X-factor genes have been… altered."  
  
"Which means what?"  
  
"Alteration of the X-factor means alteration of the mutant powers. Have you noticed any _unusual_… abilities, other than your own?"  
  
"Well, Ah-" Then she remembered. "Ah flew."  
  
"You flew? Do you mean, partake in flight through the atmosphere?"  
  
"Uh… Ah flew. Right aftah an operation Sinister performed on me- d'ya think that might be the reason?"  
  
"It very well may be. Professor Xavier will be performing some tests on you, to see what new powers you may have received. For now, you should rest."  
  
"Okay." She yawned sleepily. "Hank? There was somethin' Ah wanted ta tell y'all 'bout Gambit… somethin' important- somethin' he did… Sinister… can't remembah…"  
  
"Shhh. Rest. If the knowledge you wish to share is as important as you say, then you will surely recall it later," Beast told her, dimming the med lab lights. "You can inform Professor Xavier in the morning."  
  
She was already asleep.  
  


~*~  


  
Gambit finally returned to Sinister's base. He'd been away for a week, jumping from hotel to hotel, hoping that perhaps Sinister would calm down and forget about him springing Rogue.  
  
He should have known that Sinister wouldn't.  
  
"Gambit back," he announced, and was met with dark glares from the Marauders.  
  
"Can I kill him _now_?" growled Sabertooth, claws ready.  
  
"Not yet," answered Sinister calmly. Remy decided that he didn't like the sound of that "yet" at all.  
  
Sabertooth snarled.  
  
"Patience, patience." He turned to Gambit. "I would like you to lead the Marauders to some tunnels under New York City-"  
  
"For what?" Gambit interrupted.  
  
Essex ignored him. "It will be my finest hour. This is what all of your work has led to, Gambit. It would not have been possible without your help."  
  
Something about the cold glint in his red eyes sent shivers down Remy's back. He barely concentrated on the maps or instructions given to him. And why was Sinister coming along as well? This was- something big.  
  


~*~  


  
The Morlock tunnels.  
  
They had a definite aura of age about them, yet were kept up well enough so that they looked recently built. The main area- the "Alley"- was a secret bomb shelter built during the Soviet scare, then forgotten. Forgotten by all, that is, except the Morlocks.  
  
The Morlocks, who took their name from H.G. Wells' rulers of the underworld, were mutants who felt that they had to hide from the rest of society. They were too disfigured, or their powers were too horrible, or they simply had no place else to go. Intruders were met with hostility, but intruders were few and far between. The Morlocks had always kept to themselves, and no real harm had ever been dealt them.  
  
Until now.  
  
"Blockbuster, Arclight, Scrambler, you clear out those tunnels," Sinister barked. "Riptide, Prizm, Scalphunter, you three take those. And Sabertooth, Polaris, and Harpoon- I'll need you three here."  
  
"What de hell is goin' on?" Gambit demanded, staring aghast as the first Morlocks were slaughtered. "Y'said- y'said dat dey were for _tests_!"  
  
Sinister ignored his complaints, but put an arm around the Cajun. "Remy, my boy- this is what your work was for. Look around you. Look _carefully_. This would not be possible if it were not for you."  
  
All around them- death. Blockbuster was snapping an old lady's neck. Riptide sent shuriken out at a group of mutants. Blood was everywhere. So much blood- in only a few minutes. What would the Alley look like in an hour? Two? Ten? Who would be dead, by then? Who would survive?  
  
"Porquoi?" Remy whispered. "Oh, mon Dieu, porquoi?" A tear rolled down his cheek unbidden.  
  
"Stop that," Sinister commanded harshly, pushing Gambit from him. The Cajun stumbled to his feel in front of a snarling Sabertooth. "_Now _you may do with him as you please," Sinister told him.  
  
"Goody." Sabertooth grinned, and lunged at Gambit with claws bared.  
  
Gambit felt his life was ending in slow-motion. He felt the wall, hard and unforgiving, suddenly against his back and head as he was shoved into it. Five sharp bolts of bloody pain buried themselves below his heart and spread. The last thing he registered was the claws, still embedded in his chest, being twisted…  
  


~*~  


  
"Logan? Logan- what's happenin'? Rogue followed at the heels of the leather uniformed man as he walked through the hallway briskly.  
  
"Hurry up, get that uniform on, kid," he instructed tersely.  
  
"But what's goin' _on_?"  
  
"The Marauders are attacking some underground mutants. Xavier says we need as many X-Men there as possible. That means you."  
  
Marie stopped. "Marauders?" Then in a smaller voice: "Remy…?"  
  
"Listen, Marie, that kid's our _enemy_. We are going to _fight _him. You have to-"  
  
"Perhaps it would be best if Marie were to stay here," Storm interrupted, approaching them from the end of the hallway. "After all, she has not received training on her new abilities yet. Flight, super strength, and invulnerability- they are all new to her."  
  
"No, Ah… Ah wanna come. Ah wanna be an X-Man," Rogue told them.  
  
"You sure, kid?"  
  
"Ah'm sure," she said, but she didn't sound it.  
  


~*~  


  
They piled into the Blackbird, eleven X-Men all together. There were the five adults: Jean, Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine and Beast; and the six students: Rogue, Iceman, Shadowcat, Pyro (better known as John Allerdyce), Jubilee, and Angel. Angel, or rather Warren Worthington III, was a recent transfer student from a prestigious prep school. His mutation was the full feathery white wings sprouting from his back, enabling him to fly.  
  
When they landed, the carnage had already reached ground level. A couple Marauders were hunting down the few Morlocks who were lucky enough to have a chance to escape. Jean, Iceman, and Angel stayed above to take care of them while the rest descended into the depths of hell.  
  
And a hell it certainly was. The concrete was blood-stained beyond remedy. Many of the walls were reduced to rubble as a result of various mutant powers. Screams echoed in the body-littered cavern.  
  
Rogue's gaze fell on one of the broken bodies, at first not recognizing the finely chiseled features spattered with drying blood. She kept walking, then turned back.  
  
"Remy?" She ran to the lifeless body, crouching beside him. "No…" She embraced him desperately, as though she could squeeze life into him. Carefully, she raised a hand to his face. Nothing. Not even a small pull. Just the feel of his soft skin, and the slight beginnings of five o'clock shadow.   
  
She ran her hand down his chest, encountering the bloody wound. _What happened to ya, Remy? _ Rogue couldn't be sure through all the blood, but it looked a hell of a lot like claw marks. _Wolverine? Please, God, no._ But the wound was too shallow and hadn't brought a clean death. "Sabertooth…"  
  
She flew straight for the large man, pushing him from a fight with Wolverine into an only partially standing wall. Even with his healing factor, several of Rogue's super-strong punches caused damage. Her invulnerable skin protected her from his claws, and a seventh-sense let her know what Sabertooth was going to do before he acted. Rogue quickly gained the upper hand, as she had revenge on her side and Sabertooth was already tiring. He was eventually knocked unconscious, and she flew with his body out of the tunnels and dropped it into New York Harbor.  
  
Meanwhile, Wolverine found himself immobile as his old opponent was torn away and a new one crept up behind him.  
  
"You're gonna want to let me go now, kid," he growled.  
  
Polaris merely laughed as she held her magnetic field steady.  
  
Pyro shot a fireball at her, knocking her backwards. Her field was forgotten as she picked herself up.  
  
Wolverine took the opportunity to attack. He lunged for her throat, but she raised another magnetic field at the last second.  
  
Her cameo choker fell to the ground, sliced by admantium claws.  
  
She lowered the field, staggering dizzily. Wolverine knocked her out with a blow to the head, but it hadn't really been necessary.  
  


~*~  


  
On the surface, the X-Men appeared to be having more luck. Jean was telepathically finding hiding Morlocks, Angel was flying them to safer ground, and Iceman was covering Jean and Angel.  
  
Angel had two Morlock children with him, when his right wing was hit, and it suddenly felt as though it were on fire. _Something's hit my wing_, he slowly realized through the thick cloud of pain. _Harpoon_, he barely registered as he careened toward the ground.  
  
Two more harpoons were fired. One of the children was hit as the weapon exited Angel's wing. The other did not survive the landing.  
  
"Not so tough after all, are you, pretty-boy?" growled Harpoon, as he fired again into his wings. He pinned Angel against the wall of the dark alley, pushing stakes through each wing until he resembled a crucifix. His world was rapidly growing dark. A woman stepped from out of nowhere between him and his torturer.   
  
She was young and gorgeous, with long deep purple hair tied back from her face. Flawless Asian features were twisted into a fierce mask of anger.  
  
Harpoon looked up just fast enough to see the red blade of fire coming from the lady's hand being driven into his forehead.  
  
The last thing he registered was a clipped British accent informing him: "No one is tough when they're half-unconscious, now are they?"  
  
She turned to Angel and began removing the stakes, as gently as possible. "Are you alright?"  
  
"My wings…" he gasped.  
  
"They were beautiful," the lady told him. "I should hope they can be saved."  
  
"My wings…"  
  
The last stake was pulled out, and he fell to the concrete, slipping out of consciousness.  
  
"You need medical attention," she told him, dragging him carefully further into the dark alley. She stepped into a shadow, bringing Angel's limp body with her, and they both disappeared.  
  


~*~  


  
_Scott… is everyone all right down there? _Jean asked telepathically.  
  
_There's something wrong with Kitty, she tried to phase through one of the energy harpoons and now she's stuck. And Rogue is refusing to fight._  
  
_Why?_  
  
_Gambit died. She's in hysterics. It was Sabertooth who did it. Rogue took care of him real fast. _ Jean sensed Scott's irritation but also regret that anyone had to die, and admiration for Rogue for taking on someone like Sabertooth and coming out on top. _ I've lost track of Hank, John, and Jubilee, though._  
  
_They're fine, I can sense them nearby. Could you send some reinforcements up here? Angel's gone and Iceman is tiring._ She tried not to let on that Angel's disappearance had her more than worried for his safety, and that she was tiring as well.  
  
A small pause. _ Wolverine and I will be right there, Jean._  
  
She gave him a mental smile and a _thanks _before cutting off contact and opening her eyes.  
  
Sinister's red eyes stared back, glowing malevolently above a grin of razor-sharp teeth.  
  


~*~  


  



End file.
